When You're Strange
by LaVioleBlanche
Summary: When Christopher accepted the human into his home, he had no idea what he was getting into. Lovely slash here, get it while it's hot!
1. More Bounce in District 9

Allo allo me lovelies! So, I have been reading stuff on this site for ages eons and thingy and I finally broke down and made an account. I hope to write many stories (a note: They will ALL be SLASH!!) but I decided that the first one I post should be a Wikus/Christopher fic. Into the void! Tally-ho and all that, and as Tony Stark said: Be gentle, it's my first time.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the skin surrounding my weak human organs!

It was a sunny day in District 9, as it generally was. A surprisingly peaceful day, too, one of the rare moments of silence and tranquility…

Mostly.

"AAAAAAHSHITOHFUCKSHITCHRISTYOUFUCKINGBASTARDPRAWNFUCKERBOLLOCKSAAAAHFUCK!!!!!!"

Wikus Van der Merwe managed to bellow another string of curses, mostly directed at the prawn that was helping him, before a rag was stuffed into his mouth.

"Just keep breathing, I am almost finished," Christopher clicked, rubbing the human's shoulder gently.

As Wikus had continued to transform, it had become necessary for someone to remove the dead skin and clean the wounds on his body to prevent infection. That someone, of course, was Christopher Johnson.

Wikus subsided. Really, he was grousing more out of frustration than pain. The ship hidden under Christopher's house had been damaged accidentally when a neighboring prawn had fired an illegal weapon at the ground in an attempt to scare off human officials. The blast had punched a hole through the hull of the pod and destroyed large amounts of wiring. Christopher and Oliver were both working hard to repair it, but it would take time, and Wikus was impatient.

Christopher carefully wrapped a bandage around the human's midsection and stood up.

"Done," he informed Wikus quietly.

"Zickety-fuckin-boo," the man grumbled, pulling his shirt on. He started to rise, then grimaced in pain and staggered to the side. Christopher gently caught him under the arms and gracefully lowered him back to the floor. Wikus allowed himself to relax for a moment in the alien's strong arms before shoving him away.

"Don't fucking touch me, I'm fine," he snapped. Another wave of pain wracked his body, and he curled in on himself, gritting his teeth. Christopher clicked with wordless sympathy and draped a blanket over his houseguest.

"Can…is there…anything I can-" he began hesitantly before Wikus cut him off.

"You can _leave me the fuck alone_, prawn." He pulled the blanket over his head. Christopher nodded once, antennae drooping, and climbed down into the underground ship.


	2. Chris Habit

Yo, wazzup?! Thank you very very much for all your delicious reviews! They make my day, really. I shall attempt to update as often as humanly possible, but I have an upcoming surgery . and that may slow me down a bit. Then again, maybe I will just spend all my time at the keyboard, so we shall see! Anywho, on with the jolly olde show! Pip pip!

Oliver looked up from his work on the control board. His father sat picking at a large tangle of wires, eyes focused on something he couldn't see. He'd been working at that bunch of wires for nearly two hours, and hadn't seemed to make any headway.

Oliver clicked his mandibles cautiously. "Father?"

Christopher looked up suddenly, dropped the wires, bent to retrieve them, and hit his head on an overhanging pipe as he sat back up.

"Ow. Um. Yes, little one? What's the matter?"

Oliver considered the question a moment before answering.

"You seem…distracted. What are you thinking about?"

Christopher glanced down at the wires, seeming to notice them for the first time.

"Oh. I am thinking of…of our human friend's deteriorating condition."

"What?" Oliver cocked his head.

"I am worried that Wikus is not doing very well. He needs medical care, and I am unable to provide it. I believe that even basic pain medication would benefit him greatly."

"But we can't get that. We're not allowed," the young prawn chirped. His father looked distant for a moment.

"I…may be able to get some. There is a human establishment at the edge of the district that is legally required to accept our patronage. I will go there and purchase a few things for him."

"Isn't that dangerous?" Oliver worried.

Christopher very briefly considered lying, telling his son that he would be fine, that it was perfectly safe, but he was not the best liar, and his son was quite capable of seeing through his attempts.

"Yes. It is." He stood, ducking to avoid the pipe as he headed toward the trapdoor back up to the hut. "He is asleep now, but if he wakes and asks my whereabouts, will you please tell him that I have gone to get some things and will be back shortly?"

"Yes, father." Oliver nodded solemnly. "Please be safe."

"I will…try." Christopher patted his son's head and left.


	3. Things You See In a District

Oh god I just realized how similar my title and the beginning of my story is to hollyberry29's! Oh nooo, I feel like a thief! I swear I didn't know! Quickly, go read her story while I curl up in shame! DX

Ok, working through the guilt…sorry this chapter is so short, but the next one is crazy long. I may have to chop it in half. Also, get your angst wellies on, kids, because it's about to start flooding!!! And remember, the review is the life, no matter what vampires tell you. Cheers!

P.S. Does anyone know what kind of currency they use nowadays in Johannesburg? I feel pretty dumb for asking, but Google isn't being the least bit helpful.

It was dusk in Johannesburg, the last whiskers of sunlight painting the roofs of District 9's shanties. Oliver was perched on top of the low wooden table, eating a raw strip of beef (his father did not allow cat food, as it was habit-forming) and keeping an eye on Wikus as he slept.

The sun had just slipped past the horizon, the air beginning to fill with the eerie whine and yip of hyenas, when Christopher stumbled in and, after carefully and quietly closing the door, promptly collapsed.

"Father!" Oliver chirped fearfully, leaping down and darting to his side. Christopher was bleeding about the face, arms, and torso, his thin sides heaving as he clutched a plastic grocery bag to his chest like a life preserver.

Wikus jerked awake and looked around blearily. "W'appen'?"

"Father has been—" Oliver was silenced by the injured prawn, who raised a calming hand.

"Nothing, human. Go back…to sleep," he rasped, pushing himself up onto his hands and knees. He carefully stowed the grocery bag under the table.

Even half-asleep and in near-darkness, though, Wikus could tell something was wrong.

"Wossa matter with your voice? You been running?" The human started to kick back his covers. Christopher shook his head.

"I am…fine. Please, sleep. I will…explain…in the morning."

"But, Father…" Oliver trailed off in quizzical frustration.

"It will be all right, son." Christopher settled painfully back onto his heels and pulled over the covered water bucket. He dipped a relatively clean cloth in and rinsed his arms and face quickly. "Go and lie down. It is time for sleep."

Wikus had already nodded off once more, pain making him drowsy. With an irritated sigh, Oliver cuddled under the blankets against the human's back and drifted off.

Christopher, grunting in muffled pain, lowered himself jerkily to the floor, curled up, and closed his eyes as well.


	4. Grand Theft Poleepkwa

Sorry the last chapter took so long to post, the site wasn't letting me load it…I think my computer wants to give me an aneurism or something. Anyway, here is the brand-spankin'-new chapter, hot off the smut press! While it starts off nice and fuzzy-warm, I warn you that the drama starts setting in pretty quickly. Please let me know if I'm bludgeoning you lovely people about the heads a bit too much with the woe and angst! Always enjoy hearing from you! Pip pip!

Wikus was slowly dragged into consciousness by careful hands unraveling the bandages on his body and a warm, wet cloth soaking against his skin. Only mildly aware of his surroundings, and half-convinced he was still dreaming, he leaned back against a smooth, firm chest and sighed. One hand brushed his shoulder in an almost affectionate gesture before both returned to working at his wounds. He groaned in appreciation when they paid special attention to the patch of knotted muscles at the base of his neck. Whoever-it-was hesitated at the noise, as if worried that they had hurt him, and he butted his head gently against the chest, urging them to continue. The owner of the hands chuckle-clicked, a sound almost like bubbling water, and when a breath was drawn back into the abdomen, it was shuddering and shallow, laced with pain. The steady hands shook, and this time Wikus noticed. The events of the previous night struck him and he sat up abruptly, ignoring the protesting chittering of his host. He turned his head, golden prawn eye dilating in consternation, and felt his cheeks flush as he realized whose chest he'd been leaning on.

"Christopher- what the fuck—what the hell happened to you?!" He yelled to hide his embarrassment as well as the shock he felt on seeing Christopher's face in the light.

The prawn's whole body was dented, scratched, and bruised, blood still leaking sluggishly in some places. One eye was swollen shut, and he favored his right side. He blinked his good eye as if surprised at the human's reaction.

"Nothing. I am fine." He rose to his full height, wobbling slightly, and hobbled over to the grocery bag on the wooden table. He lifted it and passed it to Wikus without looking at him.

Wikus' brow furrowed in confusion briefly, then he opened the sack and peered inside. It held two bottles of aspirin, a tube of anti-bacterial cream, a package of biltong*, a cup of yogurt, and even a box of Romany creams.

"How did you…" he reached in and ran his human fingers along the contours of the items, as if to check that they really were there. He looked up in utter amazement. "How did you get these?"

"He went to the store," Oliver piped as he climbed up out of the ship, "And the store people beat him up."

"It's not important." Christopher continued to avoid Wikus' gaze.

"Like hell it isn't! Tell me what happened, man!" Wikus set the precious bag aside and stood up, grabbing the prawn's shoulder roughly. When Christopher flinched he dropped his hand guiltily.

Christopher sighed and finally shot the human a glance.

"I went to a convenience store to purchase a few things to help you. I was…received no differently than I had expected."

"Hang on, 'purchase'? You mean you actually paid and they still refused?" Wikus looked back at the bag.

The tall creature nodded. "We had some of your currency saved up, but unfortunately it was not quite enough. I was short four rand**. The clerk accused me of theft and the other customers chased me from the store. I managed to evade capture in the district streets and eventually they gave up."

"Told you," Oliver muttered, pawing through the bag.

"Four rand." Wikus said flatly. Christopher nodded again. "And they chased you and beat the crap out of you. Jesus, what the hell did they hit you with, anyway? You look like you've been run over!" He gestured to the broken condition of the prawn's face.

Christopher's antennae twitched. "Bricks. Shoes. Pipes. One man had a tire iron."

"_Shit_, Christopher! Sit the hell down! Does aspirin work on prawns?" He turned back toward the grocery sack.

"No. But it works on humans, which is why I got it. Take some, eat something, and continue to rest." The prawn's dismissive tone was lessened by the rasp in his breathing. "I cannot change you back to a full human if you are dead from infection or starvation."

"And _you_ can't help anyone if you bleed to death or something!" Wikus snapped. Oliver chirped his agreement.

Christopher snorted through his mandibles and disappeared into the hatch to work on the ship. Wikus threw his hands up in frustration. Oliver looked up from his seat on the floor, fiddling with the child-proof seal on the aspirin.

"Are you mad at Father?"

Wikus sighed. "No…dammit…I'm just—he's so—ughh! Is he always like that?"

Oliver thought about it. "No."

"Then why'd he do that for me?!" Wikus paced irritably.

The young prawn popped the cap of the pill container.

"He likes you."

Wikus laughed aloud, and was surprised at the sound. "That's funny. He said the same thing about you." He accepted two aspirin and dry-swallowed them before picking up the yogurt.

"I like you, too. But different. He acts like he did with his friend around you, only more nervous and worried." Oliver secured the cap.

"His friend? Who's his friend?" Wikus asked, intrigued, and for some bizarre reason, suddenly jealous.

"He was one of us. He had yellow markings. His name was Peter." The youngster began to toy with the foil yogurt lid.

"Wait, 'was'? What happened to him?"

"He's gone," the kid said cryptically.

"Gone? What do you—" There was a sudden noise outside, a staccato report that only came from one thing. Wikus ran to the window and peered out. "Guns," he whispered, glancing about. An MNU truck was parked two houses down. "Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Christopher!" He spun around and made his way over to the trapdoor, hammering on it until Christopher poked his head out.

"Christopher- the MNU- parked outside-" he choked. The alien's eyes widened in fear, then narrowed.

"Get in the ship. Quickly." He held the hatch up so that the human and child could squeeze past.

"Are we taking off?" Oliver asked excitedly.

"No." Christopher climbed out and swiftly shut the trapdoor.

~~~~~~~ * ~~~~~~~

*Biltong is a kind of sausage or jerky or some sort of meaty thing for people to eat. Whatever. Meat is gross.

**Rand is the South African currency. I don't know the exact exchange rate, but four rand is, in case you hadn't guessed, NOT a lot of money. Thank you to the people who helped me on this!!


	5. If You Want Fook You Got It

Ok, so I apologize for leaving off where I did. Please don't murder me in the face. Look, look, I distract you with a shiny new chapter, full of tension and violent racism! Hooray! Reviews make me write really fast!

"Wha—Christopher! What are you doing?!" Wikus yelled, echoed by Oliver's cries. Suddenly the house door slammed open and they fell silent.

The sound of booted footsteps reverberated through the floor over their heads. A male voice, angry and rough and loud:

"Christopher Johnson?"

There was an affirmative click.

"We're with the MNU. We're gonna ask you some questions and you're gonna give us some answers. You unnerstand me, prawn?"

Another click.

"What is all this shit you got on your walls? This computer stuff?"

Christopher pretended ignorance, saying he had found them and thought they were pretty. This seemed to satisfy the man's curiosity, so he got down to business.

"We got a report of a prawn breaking into a store and stealing some stuff. Stuff prawns don't need. You heard of Wikus Van Der Merwe?"

Negative. Wikus released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

"Can't expect these fucks to know much about all that," a second voice reasoned. "S'not like they can read or watch the telly."

"All right, prawn, you heard of any of your kind sheltering a refugee?" The first voice asked gruffly, ignoring his partner.

"In a city of refugees, how is one more of any particular interest?" Christopher responded quietly.

There was a moment of silence, presumably the soldiers figuring out what Christopher had said. The second man spoke.

"Ah, I remember this prawn. The mouthy one. Think you're a smart sunuvabitch, prawn?" The sound of a gun butting against something, probably the alien's forehead. "Answer me."

"If he was _smart_ he'd start cooperating. Prawns aren't smart."

"Unless you have a warrant, I would ask you to leave," Christopher's voice was calm and clear. "I have answered your questions to the best of my knowledge."

"Cheeky fuck." _Whack._

The noise made by the gun striking hard against exoskeleton made both Wikus and Oliver jump, and Wikus had to clamp a hand over the child's mouthparts.

There was a pause upstairs, like the drawing of a poisonous breath, then the doomsday voice of the first man:

"I got another question, prawn. Where'd you get this bag?"

Wikus felt his stomach clench and his blood run cold. Christopher's tone betrayed nothing as he explained that he'd found it in the dump. Neither man appeared to buy this.

"Right," The angry gunman said decisively, "As you are refusing to cooperate with us, we are forced to take extreme measures. You know what that means? That means if you don't tell us where you really got this stuff, we're gonna hafta force it outta you."

"'Cause that's obstructing justice, that is." The second man said nastily.

Christopher started to protest and was abruptly silenced by another horrible blow. A third hit, and the floor shook as he fell. The thuds and grunts of the soldiers as they beat him filled the hut, interlaced with cries of pain. Wikus squeezed his eyes shut, prawn hand clenched so tightly that he felt tendons twanging in his arm. Oliver trembled against him, clutching his leg. It seemed to go on forever, the pounding forming a sickening rhythm. The agonized yells had become soft, wet choking sounds and whimpers.

Suddenly there was a resounding blast outside the house. Another pair of oots stomped into the room, a new voice calling, "It's the prawn across the street! He's got some kind of weapon, he's attacking!"

"Shit! There's your thief!" The second voice shouted. "Bet he stashed the bag in here for safekeeping!"

"Yeah. Bet." The first man's voice was low and dangerous. "You boys get out there. I'll be right along."

"_He's makin' a run for it!"_ an outside voice bellowed. The engine of the truck rumbled to life as it prepared for pursuit.

"Shite. Alright, just one thing." The gunman grunted.

There was the sound of a pistol being cocked, then a single gunshot.


	6. I Think I'm Prawnanoid

Oh my goodness, you people really don't like cliffhangers, do you? Sorry, but unfortunately there will be more. Hey, look on the bright side, though, 'cos that means there will be more chapters! (Dodges a thrown chair) Okay, okay, here is your nice new update. Be sure to put it back when your done, and eat your veggies, and…I don't know what I'm rambling about, so I'll just leave you to it, shall I? On with the angst! Please leave me a review! They are my food and beverage! Toodle-oo!

Wikus' heart stopped. His breath caught in his throat. In the deafening silence, he barely heard the footsteps retreat, the truck roar away into the distance, Oliver's tearful voice asking to go back up to the house.

His limbs felt leaden and sluggish as he slowly and cautiously lifted the hatch. His voice held an unexpected tremor when he tentatively called:

"Christopher?"

His eyes landed on a curled form unmoving on the floor.

"Oh no. Oh shit, no." He clambered out of the hole, Oliver right behind him, and crawled over to Christopher's still body. "Christopher, oh, jeez, man, breathe! Shit, say something! Come on!" He reached out to clasp the alien's shoulder and gingerly rolled him onto his back.

A horribly long moment of silence and then:

A wet, hacking cough—a ragged intake of breath—

"Wikus?" He was so mangled that he could barely get his mouthparts to click out words. "Oliver?" He looked around in momentary panic before his son popped up in front of him.

"God, Christopher, you could've- you're all- _shit_." Wikus was nearly hysterical with relief, grinning despite himself.

"You're alive, you're alive," Oliver chattered over and over, burying his face in his father's side. Christopher winced and patted the boy with a trembling hand.

Wikus swallowed and asked hoarsely, "You…are you shot? I- we heard-"

"No." The battered prawn rolled to reveal the bullet hole in the floor. "I believe it was a warning shot, or maybe he just missed. He did seem somewhat intoxicated, which usually impairs aiming capabilities." As he spoke, blood began to drip from his mandibles.

"You're still pretty fuckin' messed up, mate," the human glanced over the twice-beaten body. Part of him, the part that had laughed as he set fire to a house full of prawn eggs, was repulsed with himself for feeling so distressed over the sight of a prawn's broken body.

_They're creatures, invaders, not even human; they don't even register pain…_

But the pain in Christopher's eyes was enough to bring tears to his, and he told himself that right now, this wasn't a prawn, this was a friend in need. He had to stop himself from reaching out and tracing the bloody lines that painted Christopher's face. Instead, he stood up, more grateful than ever for that aspirin, and grabbed a handful of the rags that had been converted to bandages. He dunked one in the water pot and pressed it to the bruised forehead. The alien looked up at him, surprise and gratitude showing in his expression. Wikus looked away awkwardly and cleared his throat.

"Um- well, we should get you onto a mat or something and have a better look at your wounds. Is there any thing in here that works as a painkiller for you?"

Christopher shook his head, looking mildly dazed now. His eyes were unfocused, the lids drooping. Wikus wasn't sure if it was such a good idea to let him sleep.

"Hey. Maybe you should try to stay awake; you could have a concussion…" He gently nudged the drowsy figure's arm, then jumped back as Christopher coughed again and spat blood all over his own chest. Oliver darted back, clinging to Wikus' prawn arm in fear.

"Oh, shit! Christopher- what…" The human soaked up some blood with the rag.

"I…believe…I am bleeding…internally." Christopher wheezed.

"Shit! Shit, how do I fix you?"

Again Christopher shook his head.

"You can't."


	7. Dear Wikus Won't You Come Out To Play?

So, my brain is sort of dying on me, meaning I have a head cold on top of there being a herd of tiny unicorns stampeding about in my ovaries and uterus. Heh. Utecorns! Anyway, my mental ability is about 1% right now, but I shall strive on for you good people! That is just how much I care! But right now I need to go lie down and quietly have a seizure. Remember, reviews are the cure to all life's problems, and the energy the universe feeds on. Don't let the universe starve! Cheerio!

PS: Thank you to Murder Junkie for reminding me about insectoid anatomy (I feel dumb), apologies to Lady Sylvan (I will find you some duct tape for your heart) as well as Illyric, daughterofBarricade, Thing With No Talent (Whose name tells a lie), and Mr. Gregor Samsa! And a big huge loving hug to everyone who has written me a review! Seriously, they make my day. Anyway…..

"What do you mean, I can't?! There has to be something we can do!" Wikus yelled. Oliver agreed vehemently, crouching by his father's head.

Christopher blinked and drew a painful breath. "There is nothing. We can only wait and see if it heals on its own. If not, I will most likely be dead by tomorrow evening."

"Don't say that!" Wikus snapped, shaking with helpless rage.

The prawn began to lift himself off the floor, arms taut with the effort.

"I would ask that you help me to the ship, Wikus. I may-" Labored breath in and out-"I may have only limited time, and I need to get as much repair done as possible." He heaved himself into a sitting position, shoulders hitching as he tried to catch a breath. His right arm dangled uselessly and his left secondary arm jutted out at a strange angle.

"Please, help me get down below. I intend to be useful for as long as I am able."

"Like hell," Wikus croaked, pressing a hand to Christopher's chest. "Lie back down, you great prat."

Oliver scampered away and came back with an armload of blankets in varying states of decay, trailing along the floor behind him. Wikus bundled one up and lowered Christopher's protesting head back down onto it with all the tender care of a mother placing her newborn baby in its crib. He pulled a second ratty blanket over the brutalized body. His eyes darted up and caught the prawn's gaze, gratitude and some emotion Wikus couldn't identify shining in them through the suffering. It scared him somehow, but he couldn't look away yet.

"Why are you doing this?" Christopher clicked quietly.

Wikus was momentarily silent, and Oliver answered for him.

"Because he's a nice man."

The words were like a bucket of cold water thrown at him. He froze, eyes still locked on Christopher's, as the events of the past (_week month he couldn't even remember_) all came into sharp focus suddenly: He tries to throw these two out of the only home they have left, threatens to take the child from his father, then breaks into house and demands help, demands a cure and sanctuary, and despite all that the alien lets him in, helps him. Protects him, lets him stay with them, even though he shows no gratitude, even though all he does is curse and yell and complain and sling abuse. In spite of all his human shit, Christopher risks his own life to bring him food and medicine, allows himself be beaten nearly to death rather than betray him. And Wikus is just using him. He just wants a goddamn cure. And when this is over, he's gonna go home to Tania, who wouldn't so much as accept his side of the story, and forget all about this . He won't give a crap if Christopher and the boy get blown to bits by some hyped-up gang leader. He'll just be a normal human again.

_You are a coward._ The words aren't even accusing, simply stating the fact in his mind, calmly and clearly. _You hide behind his walls and eat his food and let him take your beatings and in return you can't even help him when he's bleeding to death._

He feels strangely detached, like he's watching a movie.

~*~

Suddenly he realized that both Christopher and Oliver were looking at him with concern.

"Are you alright? You don't look well." Christopher asked cautiously.

Wikus barked out a laugh. "_I_ don't look well?"

The prawn clucked exasperatedly and let his head fall back on the makeshift pillow. Oliver burrowed under the covers and nestled in his father's arms as rain began to strike the thin roof. The sky had darkened quickly, and the hut was made up of only shadows and darker shadows.

Wikus stood looking down at the two prawns for several moments, still letting his epiphany sink in. With a sigh he turned to go into the other room, but a hand brushed his ankle. He paused and looked back.

Christopher's face was calm but sorrowful as he looked up at the human with the one eye that wasn't swollen shut.

"Could…would you mind…I-I…" He started and stopped hesitantly, as though he thought Wikus would strike him.

Wikus understood. He sat cross-legged next to the wounded being. Christopher was silent a long time, seeming to gather his words carefully.

"I…have a great favor… to ask of you," he began. "If I do not survive this…"

"You _will_."

For a second Christopher seemed almost amused by the conviction in the human's statement, the burning determination in his eyes. He drew a rattling breath and continued.

"Your optimism…is admirable. However, I _will not_ leave my child alone on this world. I must ask you, please…if I do die…you are the only one that I trust. Please. Take care of him. He is…too young… to be alone."

Wikus felt like he was in shock. Too many emotions flooded him: Guilt, helplessness, rage, grief, indignant refusal, surprise, fear… He couldn't form an answer, so he asked in a stunned voice: "W-what about, like… uh… y'know, his mum, or some other prawn, or, I dunno, _anyone_?"

Christopher looked down at his sleeping son. "His mother is dead. There is no other. Please. I would not ask… but I have no choice. Please say you will watch over him for me." He turned desperate eyes back to the human's face. "Please. For my sake."

_How the __fuck__ am I supposed to say 'no' to that?!_

Wikus nodded slowly. "If it comes to that, I will. I swear." He glared. "But don't think that gives you permission to fuckin' kick it off. I dunno if it's possible to kick a dead prawn's ass, but if I have to, I will, so you'd better stop that bleeding." He tried to raise a smile, but all he could manage was a weak grimace.

Christopher looked immensely relieved, and infinitely grateful. He didn't exactly smile, but the corners of his bruised eyes lifted, and his antennae twitched upward. Wikus felt ridiculously unworthy under his warm gaze, and was thankful when the prawn heaved an exhausted, agonized sigh and turned away on his side.

Without a word or even a second thought, Wikus crawled under the blanket and pressed his warm hybrid body to the alien's back, a comforting presence. Automatically, Christopher went rigid, antennae stiffening in surprise, and then slowly he uncoiled, allowed himself to lean back into the human's form. They lay like that, neither quite asleep. At one point, Christopher began to shiver, from cold or shock or fear or all three, and Wikus wrapped his human arm carefully around the prawn's chest, drew him closer and held him until the tremors subsided. After a while, Christopher's breathing deepened and he slept.

Wikus listened to the distant hum of the mothership, like a lullaby to all its forsaken children, and for the first time since they had landed… he did not want them to leave.


	8. Happiness Is A Warm Prawn

Hey guys, sorry that last chapter was such a butt-hole for a while. Hopefully it's working now, but if it isn't, let me know.

Damn, this head cold is a persistent bugger. Luckily I have my cats to keep me company, and the healing light of my computer screen! Whew, it got pretty fluffy there towards the end of that last chapter, huh? It continues in a similar vein in this chapter, for a while anyway. I dunno, they keep pissing each other off…well, really it's Wikus that gets pissed; Christopher seems pretty chill all the time… and constantly injured… Oh, look, I'm rambling! Hooray!

Did you know that every time you review, I donate a dollar to the Poleepkwa Refugees Fund? Okay, not really, but I would if it were real! Your reviews make me happy anyway, and as we all know, the happier the author, the faster the updates!

"Mr. Wikus. Hey. Mr. Wikus? Hello? Are you awake?"

"Uuuughhh…" Wikus groaned blearily, Oliver's chatter like an alarm clock. Without opening his eyes, he grunted, "What's up, kiddo?"

"Father said not to wake you up, but for me to check and see if you were still sleeping. Are you awake?" The tyke crouched only inches from the human's face, peering at him intently.

Wikus almost laughed, forehead still pressed to the back of Christopher's vest. "Well, I am now."

"Okay."

He heard the kid scamper around to his father's front and chirp, "He says he's awake!" The big prawn heaved an exasperated sigh that bordered on a chuckle.

Wikus forced himself to peel away from Christopher's surprisingly comfortable form, still warm from his body heat. The alien glanced painfully back at him.

"I apologize for that. I did ask him not to wake you." There was humor in his deep camera-shutter voice, despite the strained tone, and Wikus took it as a good sign.

"Yeah, y'know, no problem. You feelin' better?" He asked awkwardly, sitting up and rubbing the stubble on his chin with his human hand.

"I cannot tell yet. I am, however, concerned about that." Christopher pointed at Wikus' torso. The human looked down and saw a slowly spreading stain on his ragged shirt. He tugged it off and revealed a long, jagged tear from his left oblique down, running along his hip and disappearing into his trousers. He touched the wound with his prawn hand, hissing slightly at the sting.

"Ouch. Huh. I didn't even notice. Too caught up in the events of the day, you know?" He offered Christopher a half-smile, but the look on the prawn's face was so solemn that he froze, worried. "Hey, is something… are you okay?"

"I…I feel that I have been irresponsible. I should have noticed it earlier. How bad is the pain?" Christopher looked guilt-ridden as he reached for the anti-bacterial cream. (Thankfully the soldiers had neglected to take the bag with them when they'd run off to pursue the neighboring prawn.)

"It doesn't hardly hurt at all; look, I'm more worried about you right now, okay? We can take care of me _after_ we make sure you don't keel over, alright?" He snatched the tube out of Christopher's hand and stuck it in his pocket. The injured prawn managed to look mildly affronted.

"You should take more medicine," he clicked.

"Okay, _I'll_ take some medicine when I'm sure _you're_ not gonna die." Wikus tore open the box of cream cookies and ate one. After nothing but cat food, beef, and one cup of yogurt, the single cookie was like a five-course banquet. He handed one down to Oliver, who gobbled it eagerly.

Christopher sighed heavily and shook his head. "You will be in great pain. You may become infected. I do not wish that to happen."

"Gosh, I guess you'd better heal up quickly, then, huh?" Wikus grinned triumphantly and ate another Romany cream. The prawn looked at him, one antenna quirked.

"This is very strange blackmail." He clattered finally.

"Mm-hmmm."

Christopher rolled his eyes, a strangely human gesture, and grudgingly sat back onto the makeshift bed. Oliver chuckled like a cricket and swiped a second cookie before wandering into the other room. Wikus knelt, ignoring his protesting knees, and began to tie a bandage around the injured secondary arm. He sneaked a glance at his patient's face and was surprised to find Christopher's eyes glued to the human's bare chest. He felt his own face flush, and had to stop himself from unconsciously flexing his pectorals. He almost said, 'See anything you like?' or, 'Hey, my eyes are up here,' but he didn't think Christopher would get the joke. He carefully tucked the arm back into its socket and dragged the blanket back over the prawn. He looked down and saw that Christopher was still burning holes in his chest, so he cleared his throat, feeling like a gawky teen again, and said, "Is…is, uh …um … what's…"

He was cut off by the delicate brush of fingertips against his stomach. His belly fluttered and he swallowed, his mouth suddenly _very _dry. "Chris…" he started to whisper.

"At the very least, you should put some ant-bacterial cream on it to keep it from being infected." The prawn's tone was precise and clinical, unaware of the strangeness of the situation.

Wikus scoffed, all awkwardness quickly evaporating, and swatted the hand aside. "Just lie there and get better, idiot."

He stood and marched angrily into the other room, leaving the bewildered prawn. Oliver scurried back into the room with his father.

"What happened?" He wanted to know.

"I… have no idea." Christopher raised himself onto his elbows, eyes sorrowful. "I think I must have done something wrong."


	9. I Kissed A Prawn And I Liked It

Wheee, celebrate chapter **9** with me! It's appropriate for this fandom. Sorry this chapter took so long; I have been reading Stephen King's Tommyknockers (Which, incidentally, is one of the freakiest things I've read since Mothman Prophecies—the BOOK, not the movie!) and I haven't been able to get onto the computer due to college being a time-suck. Also, one of my kitty-cats is extremely ill ): So I have been full up, but I think you lovers of prawn-porn (teehee) will appreciate the second half of this one. *wink wink* Anyway, heer you arr, me pretties! Reviews are deliciously nutritious!

Wikus paced anxiously for nearly half an hour in the small adjoining room, trying to simultaneously explain and banish the sensations he should definitely not be having, the(_oh god_)the _stirring_ he'd felt when he saw the intensity of Christopher's eyes. His shoulder had begun to throb, a welcome distraction for once. He thought about the bag of goods in the other room. He thought of what had been done to get them. He ground his teeth.

"Fucking stupid pr—"

"Mister Wikus?"

"Huh?" He spun around and saw Oliver in the doorway, a worried expression in his blue eyes. "Sorry, I was, uhhh…what's up?"

"Father says you need to rest, or even just sit down for a while. Also you should eat something."

"Right…" He _was_ hungry, at any rate. He nervously ran a hand down the back of his neck and was annoyed with himself for it. "Uh, what's he doing? Is he still resting like I told him to?"

"Yes. He's very, very tired but he's trying to stay awake. He does that sometimes," the kid said frankly.

"Uh-huh. Well," Wikus leaned down and spoke conspiratorially, "How 'bout I take a turn keeping an eye on him, and you can go work on the ship?"

Oliver nodded and trilled enthusiastically. He loved working on all kinds of fiddly electrical things, just like his father. Wikus patted him on the head.

"Go on, then."

He waited another two minutes after Oliver had disappeared before sticking his head into the main room.

Christopher lay on the pallet, eyes closed, hands curled into fists under his chin (if it could really be called a chin). His throat moved in and out in short, shallow jabs. Wikus sat on the corner of the table and tore open the package of biltong as quietly as he could. It was mesquite-flavored, and he wondered if the prawn had just grabbed it randomly or had somehow known it was the human's favorite. He cleared his throat and spoke softly.

"Hey. You awake?"

There was no response, so he bit into the sausage in his hands and chewed slowly, savoring the taste as he glanced around at the computers on the wall. A prawn wandered by the window, stumbling past the door and away, probably in a cat food stupor. Wikus marveled again at the difference between Christopher and his people. Alike but not alike, alone in—what had he called it?—a city of refugees.

A sound of pain brought him back to the moment. He looked down to see that the injured creature had curled on his side, the blanket falling off his shoulders. His feet twitched like a cat dreaming. His antennae rattled against the floor as he struggled for air. Wikus set the biltong down and approached him. Crouching, the human placed a hand on Christopher's shoulder and whispered in what he hoped was a soothing manner.

"Hey, man. Hey, it's okay, you're gonna be fine, you're alright, yeah, you're alright. Dammit… I'm not angry, really, it's okay. Shh…" He was babbling nonsense now, part of him panicking as he saw a spray of blood fly from the alien's fluctuating mouthparts. "No, shhh, just keep breathing, you're gonna be fine, you can't die 'cause I'm crap at taking care of kids, really, I- I'll let him stay up too late and feed him junk food and, uh, you can't die, you hear me? Don't you fucking dare, you fucking prawn. Don't you dare leave me alone." He was gripping Christopher's shoulder tightly, the plates of his carapace sliding against each other.

Christopher shivered, drawing his legs up against his chest and curling in on himself as if to ward off a blow. He muttered under his breath, high speed clattering sounds that Wikus couldn't understand. The human vaguely wondered if he might be praying to some prawn-god or simply making noises to dilute the pain. The battered form gave one last shudder and coughed another lungful of blood, then was still. For a terrifying moment, Wikus thought he had died, but when he looked into the prawn's face, he saw that those large, expressive eyes were open and looking up at him.

"Uhh," he said intelligently.

"Wikus," Christopher spoke slowly, his pebble voice weak and strained, "You are squeezing my shoulder…somewhat painfully. If you could--?"

"Oh, god, right, of course." He pulled his hand away and sat back a little, face reddening against his will.

Christopher looked around the hovel, his breathing labored and his eyes glazed with the effort. "Where…is…"

"He's down below, mucking about with the ship," Wikus said automatically. "He's fine. How are you feeling?"

"My…condition… seems to have… worsened."

"Shit." The human rocked worriedly on his heels. "Shit. Fuck."

"However, it is… a good sign… that I have… survived this long. It's always… the worst… before it gets better. It is a … human saying, yes?"

"Yeah. It is," Wikus croaked. "So you're better? Or you're gonna get better?"

"I hope…so."

"That's good. That's real good. I mean, hope is a great thing for healing, right?"

Christopher looked at him. He ran his fingers lightly down Wikus' alien arm. "If that were true, you would be human again." He said it gently, even jokingly, but somehow it stung.

Wikus grimaced and shoved him back, snarling, "Don't touch me, prawn."

"I'm sorry." Christopher said quickly, holding up both hands in a placating gesture. "I'm sorry, I should not have… I didn't mean to…"

The human sighed and looked away. It was nearly impossible to stay angry at the prawn for some reason. "Whatever," he muttered, rubbing his arm. "It's… whatever. Never mind."

_You're too fucking gentle, too fucking kind. Scream at me, hate me for what I've done to you, stop being so goddamn understanding._

He turned and bent down next to Christopher so suddenly that the creature flinched. "Let me take a look at your injuries," he said quietly.

Christopher plucked nervously at the blanket around his hips. "That isn't necessary. I can… look after myself. I am… still worried about… your transformation. How is the… wound on you chest? And do you… have any others?"

"I'm fine. My hand hurts, but that's what happens when you chop your own finger off."

The alien made a concerned sound and reached for his arm, then hesitated, wary of Wikus' temper. The human held his arm out for Christopher to examine. The prawn's hands were careful, skittering around the wounded area, squeezing his wrist lightly testing his dexterity and flexibility. Wikus had always seen prawns as somewhat clumsy with their hands, and his own new arm certainly hadn't helped him much in that area, but Christopher's hands were small, even delicate. They moved with agility and precision, a kind of grace that singled him out even when he wasn't moving.

"Well, the area isn't infected, which is excellent." The prawn's voice was thoughtful, his breathing a little easier, it seemed. "However, I have some bad news."

Wikus tensed, wondering what had gone wrong, what else could possibly happen to him.

Christopher looked at him seriously. "You will no longer be able to play the piano."

It took a second to register in his mind that _Christopher had made a joke_. The laughter that burst out of him seemed to surprise them both. It died just as quickly when Wikus realized how close their faces had somehow gotten. He pulled back with a cough.

"Okay, you got to play doctor, now it's my turn."

Before the alien could protest, Wikus yanked the blanket away and had to bite back a gasp. He hadn't gotten a really good look at the extent of the damage before, and it was even worse than he'd imagined. Black, mottled bruises were visible under the hard exoskeleton, which was chipped and dented, even cracked in some places. There was a defined boot-print on his jutting hip, tiny cracks spiderwebbing away from it like broken glass. Two of the narrow plates on his back were crooked, their angles catching on the floorboards and making Christopher wince every time he moved. Some blood still leaked from someplace under the scrapped-together vest the prawn wore.

Wikus reached up and began to carefully tug at the duct tape clasp of the garment, and Christopher looked up in alarm.

"What are you doing?"

"I gotta get this off you so I can see what you got goin' on under there." As the words left his mouth, Wikus realized how lecherous they sounded, and hoped that the alien wouldn't understand the implication. The tape peeled loose and he pulled the vest off of the prawn's form. It came away sticky with blood. "Aww, hell."

There was another crack in the plating on Christopher's back, this one still bleeding down onto the bony spine.

"Shit, man, why didn't you say something?"

"I… don't like to complain."

"Fuckin' A…" Wikus muttered, swabbing at the damage. "'Don't like to complain,' can say that again."

He tore off a hank of worn cotton bandage and did his best to wrap it around Christopher's wide chest and shoulders. "Well, at least your breathing sounds a little better. You think you can make it through the night?"

"Yes."

"Good." He strode over to the sublevel hatch, opened it, and called down to the kid. "Hey in there, bedtime!"

Oliver gave a disappointed chirp but climbed out and headed for the pallet. Wikus watched the boy snuggle in with his father, then turned and unfolded a second blanket a few feet away for himself.

Christopher glanced over as the human settled down separately. "You, uh…" His antennae twitched nervously. He looked down, then back up at Wikus. "You don't need to sleep over there- it's warmer when you- I mean… I don't mind if you…" He trailed off, feeling shy and ridiculous.

Wikus pulled the blanket over himself and rested his head on a balled-up shirt. He had the distinct feeling that more closeness was really not a good idea at the time. "Nah, I'm just gonna crash over here tonight. Thanks."

For a moment Christopher looked like he wanted to say something else, but then he lowered his head, eyes shutting. Wikus remained awake for a while, watching until he was sure that the prawn was breathing steadily before allowing himself to sleep.

Some time around one in the morning, Wikus rolled over to find that Christopher had migrated onto the human's cot, pressing back against back.

"Uhh… Christopher?" He whispered, jostling the sleeping form. Christopher awoke with a start.

"Oh!" He sat up, looking around in embarrassment. "Oh- I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to…"

"It—it's okay, I just-" Wikus glanced in the direction of the prawn's bed and was surprised to see it was empty. "Where's your kid gone?"

"He went to sleep in the other room." Christopher started to scuttle away backwards, pushing himself with his legs. "I'm sorry, I really wasn't trying to… I'll just—"

"No!" Wikus grabbed one of the prawn's arms on impulse. "No, I don't mind. Lie down."

Christopher complied, flattening out on his back, arms held at his sides. For a full ten agonizing minutes, Wikus lay next to the alien in awkward silence, a heated debate raging in his mind. Finally, a decision was reached. With a quiet grunt, he stretched his uneven arms above his head, surreptitiously wiggling closer to Christopher's body, and when his arms came down, the left one landed squarely on the prawn's chest. He felt Christopher tense instantly.

_So he's not asleep either_, Wikus mused, _but he may think that I am._

Deciding to take advantage of this and push his luck a little further, the human heaved a huge, dramatic yawn and twisted until he lay fully spread across the prawn. His chin nestled against the overlapping plates of the neck, he could feel the creature's breathing, a rapid, rising pattern almost like the rhythm of a song. Poor Christopher was nearly having conniptions, but he hadn't pushed Wikus away yet: a good sign in the semi-human's mind. He waited for Christopher's muscles to slowly unclench, then drew a breath and gave a careful _thrust_ of his hips.

The reaction was instantaneous.

Christopher's head smacked the floor as he threw it back; his legs skittered across the wooden boards; his hands clenched fistfuls of blanket. He made a shocked, desperate sound unlike any prawn noise Wikus had ever heard, almost-but-not-quite a human vocalization, nearly a moan. He trembled. Wikus risked a glance up and caught Christopher's eye. He sat back, straddling the alien's hips, shuddering as he felt his erection press against Christopher's. He started to say something, opened his mouth to speak, but couldn't find anything that would explain this, so instead he busied himself working at the ragged clothing the prawn wore, busied his mouth by leaning down and biting softly at Christopher's neck. Again the creature shivered, and Wikus groaned at the sensation, the little shockwaves it sent through him. It felt like he hadn't been with someone in years, like all the frustration and lust that had built up was about to escape.

Christopher was silent beneath him, eyes tightly closed as he panted, his hands balled into fists as if he was making a point of not touching the human. Wikus wanted to see him lose control, wanted to hear that sound again. He recalled a training video the MNU had shown:

_(--"If forced to confront a prawn in hand-to-hand combat," the instructor's flat voice droned, "attempt to cause damage to one or more antennae, as these have been found to be sensitive."_

"_Like a chick's tits, eh?" One man in the audience joked, earning a laugh from the group--)_

Wikus reached up and, as if he were touching an icy surface, ran his fingers down Christopher's antenna. At the same time, he used his prawn hand to rub the bulge in the alien's trousers.

Christopher's tawny eyes flew open. His back arched, lifting the human, as he let out a long, shaky cry of pleasure. Wikus grinned victoriously. The prawn's hands finally came up to grip the man's hips with bruising force and Wikus gasped, grinding against him. Christopher bucked up, grunting and murmuring and shouting and begging.

"_Oh_—Wikus—oh, oh… please… _ahh_—_Wikus_!"

Wikus slammed them together again and again, lost in sensory overload. He let out a strangled scream when Christopher leaned up and traced patterns across his chest with soft mouthparts, whispered endearments against his bare skin.

"_Wikus, so good… don't stop,__** please**__, feels so-ohhhh…_"

The human ran his hand down the prawn's antenna again, eliciting more gasps and pleas. He was close… they both were, he could tell—

"_More, please, don't stop, Wikus, harder!_"

A sudden thought struck Wikus.

"Hang on," he panted, still riding the prawn, "You're speaking _English_."

"Am I?" Christopher looked surprised. "I guess this must be a dream, then."

Wikus bolted awake, drenched in sweat, alone in his pallet. He was painfully hard. He looked over at Christopher, sleeping peacefully a few feet away.

"Oh, _fuck_," he whispered.


	10. Fook You Fook You Very Very Much

Wow. Chapter 10. I remember when I started writing this I was like "Oh, it'll prolly be about four or five chapters long, no biggie." NOW look at it. Ten freakin' chapters! Really, it's only thanks to you lovely people and your excellent reviews that I made it this far. Of course, by the time I'm done it'll be more like 15 chapters or something… anyway, here we go!

PS: Thanks to Murder Junkie for the extremely helpful tips on the care and keeping of prawns (And I'm happy that I could please your rabid inner xeno girl!) Again, your knowledge fills me with awe. Thing With No Talent, your reviews make my day and keep me giggling (Actually, when I read your last one I thought you were ranting at me at first and I was like "Oh god what did I do wrong?!" before realizing that you were shouting at Wikus) Kurichi-chan—oh, you want cuddling?…just you wait! *wink* As for the rest of you, I apologize for tricking you with false porn! The real stuff is on its way! Also, quick question: should Poleepkwa be capitalized? I don't wanna offend any resident aliens.

Reviews inspire real prawn porn (No, really, it's a scientific fact!) Keep it up!

Whoa, changin' up the POV on ya!

Christopher's eyes fluttered open. He was sore all over; even his eyelids hurt.

_At least the bleeding on my back seems to have ceased_, he noticed. _Thanks to Wikus_…

He had the sudden nervous sensation of being watched. Shifting carefully out from under his son, who had ended up curled across the larger alien's shoulder, he sat up and looked around. His gaze landed on the form crouched on a folded blanket in the corner. Wikus was seated cross-legged, one elbow resting on his knee, propping up his chin with his human hand as he pierced Christopher with his uneven stare. Christopher felt a shiver run down his spine at the strangely predatory gleam in the human's eyes. His maxillae rattled anxiously against his face, the Poleepkwa equivalent of clearing one's throat, as he asked:

"Wikus? Are—are you alright?"

Wikus was silent for a brief moment, then he shook himself and looked at the worried creature like he had just woken up. "Huh? Oh. I'm fine. I'm just…" He looked distant. "Just a little stir-crazy. That's all. I just, uh, I was just thinking that I need to get out of the house for a bit. Y'know, stretch my legs…"

Christopher regarded him curiously, then said cautiously, "I do not think that would be a wise decision. You are still being hunted by the MNU. You could be recognized, especially if you go out in broad daylight."

Wikus exploded. "FUCK, man, if I have to stay in here for the rest of my fuckin' life then I may as well let them fuckin' kill me!"

The Poleepkwa raised his hands in a pacifying attempt. "Please, lower your voice. My son is still sleeping."

"Fuck!" Wikus turned and kicked a circuit board across the floor like a child having a tantrum. He saw the prawn flinch, and felt a stab of guilt.

Christopher spoke in a series of soothing clicks. "Please, Wikus, try to calm down. You are clearly agitated due to the transformation. You are in pain. You should take more of your medicine."

"And what about you?" The human gestured angrily, frustration fueling his rage. "You're probably in more pain than I fucking am, and we can't do shit about it! It's not bloody _fair_! And then last ni—" He turned away abruptly and fell silent, fists balled.

Christopher had very little idea what the human was going on about, but he stood and approached the raging being, laying a timid hand on Wikus' left shoulder. Wikus jumped a little at the contact, looking back at the taller creature in consternation. He leaned into the alien's touch for a split second before pulling away.

"Fuck, man, you are _not_ helping."

Again, Christopher was confused by the human's words, but he lowered his hand. Wikus was quiet for a moment, calming himself down. When he turned and spoke, his voice had lost some its fury but none of its intensity.

"I need to get out of here for a while. I'm gonna go fucking crazy in here. I just need to be _alone_, in the fresh air. I'll be fucking careful; I just have to get away from this place, away from _you_-" Wikus was so caught up in his rant that he didn't see Christopher's antennae drop, or catch the sudden flare of pain in his eyes.

The prawn turned and hobbled over to the pile of blankets and rags that was his bed. He pulled out a fairly intact sheet, careful not to disturb his somehow-still-sleeping child, and passed it to the human, speaking in a low, strangely flat tone.

"If you must go out, I… suppose the junkyard would be the safest place. It's not too far from here; you should be able to get there unnoticed. Wear the sheet to hide your identity. You should return before dark, though; the gangs tend to become more active at night, even in the dump." He kept his eyes down, adding softly, "Please do be careful."

He remained standing in one place, not looking up until Wikus had passed him and gone out the door. He glanced over at his child's inert form.

"How long have you been awake, Little One?"

"I'm not awake. I'm asleep," Oliver insisted, eyes closed.

Christopher shook his head in amusement, crouching and tapping his son lightly on the head with his undamaged arm. "You don't sound very asleep to me."

The boy rolled over and looked up at his father solemnly.

"Are you and Mister Wikus breaking up?"

"What?" The older Poleepkwa had never heard that term before. _Something he picked up from the human, I suppose._

"Are you fighting? Do you not like each other any more?"

Christopher hesitated. "We were… not fighting. As for the second question, I do not dislike him at all. I am worried for him. I seriously doubt he has ever been particularly fond of me, though."

Oliver shook his head condescendingly. "You both like each other. I can tell."

His father looked away, his expression unreadable.

After a thoughtful moment, the child asked, "By the way, what does 'fuck' mean?"

Christopher shot his son a quizzical look, then rolled his eyes and kneaded his brow, torn between exasperation and laughter. Another phrase taught by Wikus.

"It is… a human word, used to express strong feelings. It is not generally used in polite company."

Oliver nodded. "I understand. What are we going to do today while Mister Wikus is gone?"

Christopher gazed at the hatch leading to the ship. "We will work to get the repairs done as swiftly as possible, so that we can get help for Wikus."

"And then the three of us can go home together!" Oliver finished emphatically.

The big Poleepkwa didn't answer, opened the trapdoor, and together father and son went down and worked beneath the earth of a strange planet in secrecy, and Christopher didn't speak at all for the rest of the day.

~~~~~~*~~~~~~

Hours later, just after darkness had fallen, they were interrupted by the sound of the door swinging open and shut, and something heavy landing on the floor above them. Both aliens froze, slowly turning their eyes upward. There was an instant of tense silence, then—

"Well, where are you?"

Christopher cautiously raised his head and called, "Wikus?"

"Christopher? Where the hell- oh, right." There was a scuffling sound, something being dragged away from the hatch. The human pried the little door open and stuck his head down. "C'mon up, wait'll you see the kind of swag I found in the dump!"

Stunned by the change in the human's attitude, and a little apprehensive, Christopher crawled up and out, his son following. Wikus stepped back, full of high-strung pride, and spread his right arm like a salesman displaying goods.

"Check it out."

Lying on the floor was a fully intact king-sized mattress.

Wikus was grinning from ear to ear. "Can you believe it? It was just sittin' there! I mean, yeah, it's got some bloodstains on it, but only on one side! You don't know how much of an improvement it's gonna be, mate! Have you ever slept on an actual mattress?"

Christopher shook his head mutely in disbelief.

"Well you're gonna! And look!" He pulled a package of Ghost Pops out of his back pocket. "I fuckin' love these things, and the bag isn't even opened! And look what else I found for you!"

The prawn blinked in surprise. "Me?"

"Yeah, you, who else am I talking to?" The human patted his pockets, trying to locate something. "Ah-ha!" Victoriously he waved the object about.

Christopher took the odd-looking contraption and examined it. "What is it?"

"It's a staple gun!" Wikus' smile was so wide that it was starting to hurt, but he didn't care. "We can use it to close up the cracks in your exoskeleton, so you'll heal!"

Christopher found he couldn't speak, waves of gratitude and confusion washing through him. Fortunately for him, Oliver piped up with just the right sentiment.

"Fuck!"


	11. Living la Wikus Loca

Wow. So, uh, I guess you guys liked that last chapter, judging by the response. All those lovely reviews inspired me to buckle down and crank out another chapter! Kurichi-chan: The end of this chapter was made with you in mind. (*In jigsaw voice*oh, yes. There will be cuddling. Muhahaha!) And to all of you who liked the staple gun thing, I must give credit to Murder Junkie: Your ideas are ridiculously helpful. I am sorry for making your family gape at you. Your description of Chris and Wikus made me giggle like a fool if it's any consolation. And of course Oliver is cute as a bug. He pretty much **is** a bug. Seriously, he's the only child I can think of that I don't hate. I really don't do well with children, but I get the feeling that lil Oliver and I would get along well. We would scheme together to set up his daddy with Wikus. Thing With No Talent: Yeah, I'm trying (seemingly in vain) to keep it a little more towards the light-n-happy side, but who knows? I'm inspired by what goes on around me. And by you people. Mistah Eleganza: Here is a tissue for your nosebleed. Experiments you say? Well, all in the name of Science, right? Hmm, you may want another one of those tissues. In fact, just take the whole box. Illyric: I have not yet seen The Pursuit of Happiness; it's on my To See list, but I can tell already that I will grin dorkily at that scene. Glad to get your opinion on the whole Poleepkwa thing, I pretty much agree with you. Wow, sorry for the long opening credits, guys. Here's the chapter, enjoy! Cheery-bye!

"Okay," Wikus said apprehensively, holding the staple gun like a first-time surgeon holds a scalpel. "So, uh, I don't know if this is gonna hurt or not, but I'm betting it will."

Christopher nodded, his eyes half-lidded. He looked absolutely exhausted.

_Well, shit, he's had seven kinds of crap kicked out of him and had to deal with taking care of his kid __**and**__ me. No wonder he's tuckered._

The prawn, who was seated on the edge of the new mattress, turned and clacked calmly at his son.

"Little One, perhaps it would be best if you were not here for this."

Oliver chirped obediently and scampered into the other room, carrying the small holographic projection of their home world.

Wikus cleared his throat. "Ready?"

"Yes." The prawn faced him.

Taking a deep breath, the human reached out and placed his alien hand against one of the cracks that ran down the smaller plates of Christopher's right arm. Pressing the two jagged halves of the broken piece together, he quickly brought the staple gun up with his unchanged hand and punched it against the rift. Christopher cried out as the heavy-duty staple pierced him, his hands clenching, before he cut himself off, forcing his mandibles to still. Wikus winced in sympathy and punched in the next metal barb. This time the alien managed to stay silent, his face tightening as he bore the pain.

The process continued for almost an hour, with Wikus having to occasionally pick out and redo a misdirected or crooked suture. Each time the bit of the gun plunged, the human felt a twinge of guilt, but the prawn remained quietly controlled, his harsh breathing the only giveaway. Wikus was impressed.

At last he said, "Alright, I think that's all of 'em, except for this one on your back. I can probably get a better shot at it if you roll over on your stomach."

Christopher complied, flattening out on the bed, his head resting against his folded arms. Wikus pulled the prawn's vest up and unwrapped the bandage under it. He sucked in a breath. _This one's gonna be difficult_.

He fumbled about for a few minutes, trying to get a good angle, before Christopher quietly suggested, "Maybe—if you sat on my back, you could- get a better position…"

"Yeah." Wikus swallowed nervously. "Uh, are you sure you can handle my, uh, weight?"

"If you straddle my pelvis there shouldn't be a problem." Christopher was extremely glad of the fact that the human couldn't see his face or read the horrible embarrassment in his voice.

"Right. Great. Okay." Wikus croaked weakly. After several false starts, he buckled down and swung a leg over the prawn's hip. On the bright side, he thought, at least Christopher was facing down so he couldn't see how red the human's face was.

_Just get it over with_, he told himself.

When the first staple entered the damaged carapace, Christopher shuddered in pent up agony. The tremors shot straight through Wikus, who had to bite down on his lip to keep a surprised moan from escaping as he punched in the next one, and the next. For every staple, there was a shiver, a jolt of pain for the alien and guilty pleasure for the human.

All of a sudden, Wikus froze completely.

Christopher turned his head as far as he could. "Is something wrong?" His voice was strained but concerned.

"I—I've got a—I've g-got a…" The man astride his back stuttered.

"What?"

Wikus sputtered helplessly. "I've got—I- I- I've gotta go… outside. For a minute. I, uh, I have to take a piss. Alone." He scrambled off the alien and bolted out the door before the prawn could stop him.

Christopher cocked his head, baffled by the human's behavior.

Wikus scurried around to the back of the hovel, stumbling in the dark, breathing heavily. He crouched, back pressed to the wall, in some semblance of privacy, and dropped his head into his hands.

"Ohhh, go, no, I'm sick, I'm so sick, this is so, so wrong." He forced himself to look down. Yes, there it was.

"Oh god. Oh god. What is _wrong_ with me? What the fuck kind of person gets a fucking hard-on sitting on a goddamn prawn?!"

He drew several big, deep breaths. "Shit. Shit."

_Nothing else for it, I guess_.

He swiftly unzipped the tattered remains of his trousers and pushed his underwear down. Biting his lip, he gripped his erection mercilessly with his left hand and began pumping quickly. Unbidden, his eyes closed and his mind's eye filled with images of Christopher, looming over him in concern. Christopher, eyes wide with surprise and distrust as he supported the bleeding human who had broken into his house and collapsed in his arms. Christopher nursing his wounds, dodging insults and punches. Christopher, stumbling home bleeding in the dark. Christopher, cradling the human against his chest. Christopher. Christopher.

"Ah, god," Wikus grunted, imagining the feel of the alien's hands down there instead of his own. The gentle susurrus of Christopher's mouthparts caressing his burning skin. With a sound halfway between a moan and a sob, Wikus came. He wiped his hand on a bloodstained t-shirt on the ground, zipped his pants, and hurried back inside.

~~~~~~*~~~~~~

Christopher was slowly and painfully struggling to sit up when Wikus walked in. The prawn was visibly trembling from pain and exhaustion.

"Hey, just lie back down, mate. It's gotta be almost eleven pm anyway." The human patted Christopher on the shoulder lightly.

The alien nodded and lay down on his side. Wikus stuck his head in the adjoining room and called for Oliver. The kid was sound asleep under the glow of the hologram. Wikus chuckled tiredly and lifted the child, carrying him out to the other prawn. Christopher's eyes shone with that unidentifiable emotion as the human set his son in his arms.

"Thank you, Wikus."

"Yeah, well, y'know. One good turn and all." Wikus crawled in behind the big prawn on the mercifully soft mattress and pulled up the ragged blankets. He was asleep in minutes.

_He was back with the MNU people. He was strapped to a gun, alien arm bolted down, hand clamped to the trigger. The men pushed a prawn onto the range, threatening it with human guns and harsh words. The creature staggered, thin and delirious from whatever had previously been done to it. An "X" had been painted crudely on its shell. Wikus didn't understand for an instant, and then he saw the "X" and began to sob and beg anew. _

"_Please, no, don't make me, I'll- I'll pull the trigger, just please don't make me shoot that prawn, please, don't, I don't want to, please—"_

_But one of the men with the electrical batons stabbed at his arm and his fingers tightened convulsively and the blast of light shot out of the barrel. In the split second before it struck, he looked up and made eye contact with the doomed alien and __**oh god it was Christopher, it was Christopher throwing his arms up and screaming—**_

_"NO!"_

_--and then he was gone in a million pieces thrown all over the wall and floor like a Jackson Pollock painting and the men were pushing another prawn, a child, onto the range to stand sobbing in the ruin of its father, and somehow Christopher was still screaming and Wikus realized that it was him, that primal, raw sound of overwhelming grief tearing out of his throat as the baton arced down once more toward his arm—_

"**NOOOOOO**!!"

He shot up in bed, blanket flying off of him, covered in a cold sweat. Christopher was immediately awake at his side, Oliver blearily chirping in surprise and worry.

"Are you in pain?" The older prawn touched Wikus' left shoulder comfortingly.

Wikus shook his head violently, trying to drive the dream away. "Nuh-no."

"Did you have a bad dream?" Oliver trilled.

"Yeah." The human settled back down, turning away and dragging the covers back up to his neck. "Yeah. A dream." He couldn't stop trembling.

"It's alright, Little One. Go back to sleep." Christopher clicked quietly to his child. He turned back to Wikus and lay down facing him, wrapped himself around the human's form and stroked his hair gently. With a choking sound of relief and fear, Wikus rolled over and buried his nightmare in the solid presence of the wounded being. He slept again, and did not dream.


	12. Smack My Chris Up

Okay, so you guys totally caught me. *hides face in shame* I realize I haven't been keeping up with the whole "Wikus is transforming" thing. I keep meaning to throw in a scene where he undergoes some violent cramps or something, but I just get carried away with the storyline and I forget, so thank you for reminding me! To answer Illyric: I guess he's got the Poleepkwa arm, the left eye, the little secondary left arm, and various other little nubbly bits sprouting up all over. Oh, and I wanted to bring everyone's attention to the subtle change I'm making vis-à-vis the chapter titles. I'm naming them all after songs with a D-9 twist. Let me know your opinion, and if you think of any suggestions, they are always welcome!!

PS: Thing With No Talent: I'm totally sewing myself a prawn plushie. My family thinks I'm a freak. I think it's worth it. ^.^ Also, MORE EMBARRASSING ERECTIONS!! WOOHOO! Aren't alien hormones fun??

Morning arrived slowly, the skies once again grey and gravid with rain. The sunlight was watery and muted as it passed through the windows and fell on the three sleeping creatures inside.

Wikus was the first one to wake, but he didn't move. He remained in the warm, calming embrace of Christopher's arms, listening to the rasp and flow of the hollows on the prawn's neck as he breathed. The human felt completely safe for the first time in ages; even the pain of his mutation seemed like a dull, distant ache. He snuggled closer, wanting to savor the moment, to hold it and lock it away somewhere deep inside himself. He inhaled Christopher's scent, a smell faintly like clay and almonds, not at all off-putting; weirdly comforting, even. The prawn muttered something in his sleep, squeezing the human a little tighter and nuzzling his hair. Wikus practically purred at the sensation, his head lifting and bumping lightly at the alien's chin, silently demanding more contact. Still dozing, Christopher reached out with his secondary arms, fumbled along the human's stomach. One latched onto the small limb growing from Wikus' belly, clasping it loosely and lacing short fingers together. The other continued tracing lines on his skin, searching for his other miniature prawn arm that hadn't sprouted yet.

Wikus chuckled sleepily, a contented smile forming, then gasped as the exploring touch brushed across a cloth-covered nipple. He felt his groin stir again, and was more surprised than disgusted. He'd never, ever been this easily aroused before.

_It's just the alien hormones_, he told himself. _Pheromones or something. That's all. Goddamn, he smells good._

The thought struck him that this was extremely fucked up, that he should pull away right now, because Christopher was asleep, he didn't realize what he was doing, and for crying out loud, the guy's kid was only two feet away; if he was gonna be a sick pervert he wasn't gonna do it with a kid nearby.

_Jus' another sec_, he thought lazily, _just a sec, then I'll get up, go out back, toss off, and pretend this never happened._

His reverie was disrupted, however, by a sudden loud slamming on the door. All three of them jumped, the two prawns snapping awake. A harsh jackhammer voice outside called:

"Christopher! Open up! I know you're there!"

Christopher turned, wide-eyed, to Wikus.

"Get in the other room and hide," he hissed urgently. "Quickly, both of you!"

Wikus grabbed Oliver and carried him to the back, ducking behind a wall just as the door slammed open and a large, angry-looking prawn stormed in.

"Heard you weren't feeling well," the creature barked. "Thought I'd come by and see you. You know who I am?"

Christopher answered calmly. "You are Edward. Peter's brother."

"That's right." Edward snatched up the box of Romany Creams and inspected it. Upon finding that it was empty, he flung the container across the small room. Christopher didn't blink when it hit the wall behind his head.

"So. How're you gonna do it?" The aggressive intruder asked, pacing in agitation.

Christopher tilted his head. "What?"

Edward slammed a fist against the other side of the barrier Wikus was leaning on, making the human start. "Don't play dumb! You know what I mean! How are you going to escape?"

There was a moment of shocked silence, then the prawn on the bed spoke. "I-I'm not."

"Bullshit!" A crash; Edward had smashed a computer screen. "Peter told me he was helping you! He said you knew a way to get home! That was why he let you corrupt him with your sickness, your _filth_!"

Christopher was quiet again. When he answered, his voice was low and bitter. "That is what you think of it? Filth? That is how this planet has ruined our way of thinking, our teachings of tolerance and respect?"

"Respect?!" _Crunch_—another monitor. "Is that what you call stealing someone's garbage?! Is that what you cal getting gunned down in the street?! Staying alive is more important than your 'respect'! Open your eyes, Johnson! The MNU don't give a shit about respect! They're in charge; they see everything. They can do whatever they want, and no one can stop them! If they were to find out about your little plan, what do you think they'd do? Do you think they'd kill you right away, or make you watch your son die first?"

Wikus unconsciously tightened his protective grip on Oliver, his mind racing. _What can I do? How can I help?_

Christopher's shoulders sagged. "What do you want?" He asked hollowly.

Edward ceased pacing and turned, his muddy brown eyes gleaming. "I want in on the plot. When you go, you take me with you. I won't be left behind with the rest while you and your brat fly off and disappear. I wanna go home _now_."

Christopher shook his head. "That isn't possible. We will not be able to leave. There… there was a complication. Several, in fact. We can't go home."

A sudden flurry of violent movement and Edward was on the bed, crouching on top of Christopher, gripping the wounded prawn's smaller antennae and twisting so hard that Christopher screamed, his feet kicking weakly.

"The fuck we can't! Don't you fucking lie to me! Tell me how you're gonna do it!"

Wikus scanned the room desperately, looking for something to cover his arm with. Please, please, if there is a god, please let this work.

Christopher cried out again in agony as Edward trod heavily on one of the sutured cracks on his abdomen.

Wikus wrapped a towel around his arm, set Oliver down, and, squinting his left eye, stepped into the main room.

Edward looked up in surprise and confusion; Christopher gaped in horror and apprehension.

Taking a deep breath, the human adopted an authoritative tone and said, "Christopher Johnson and Edward…?"

A pause, then: "…Moore."

"Edward _Moore_. Right. Edward, do you know who I am?"

Edward looked somewhat less confident. "MNU." He muttered nervously.

"That's right." Wikus managed to hide his relief. "Now, tell me, Edward, did I just hear you talking about a plan to escape?"

"I…uh…" The thug-like prawn released his captive and began to shuffle backwards towards the door. "No."

"Careful, now, Edward," Wikus continued, falling easily into the same derisive way of speaking he'd normally used when addressing prawns before. "If you go running out of here, it'll look pretty bad to the soldiers in the watchtowers outside. In fact, it'll look like you just killed an MNU agent and scarpered. They'll probably kill you where you stand, right in the street. We don't want that, do we?"

"No, sir." Edward froze where he was, looking less intimidating by the second. Christopher stared incredulously as Wikus pressed on.

"Good, I thought not. Now, this house is under surveillance. That means there's gonna be MNU gunmen around here every day, watching this place. Waiting for someone to mention something like 'escaping' or 'plot'. D'you hear?"

Edward nodded. Wikus cleared his throat and smiled condescendingly. "Alright. We seem to understand each other, so I'm gonna let you leave now. Just walk out nice and calm."

The prawn did as he was told, closing the door carefully and walking away with his hands held out from his sides like he was expecting a sniper to take him down if he so much as stumbled.

Wikus waited until Edward's silhouette had disappeared down the street before letting the air rush from his lungs in a huge sigh of relieved tension. He slumped to the ground, feeling as if he had just run a long-distance race.

"Are you okay?" He asked shakily, gesturing to Christopher's wound, which had started to tear and bleed a little.

Wordlessly Christopher nodded, still too stunned to form a sentence. It didn't matter; the gratitude in his eyes spoke volumes.

Oliver came barreling in, leaping on his father to hug him, then darting over to give Wikus the same treatment.

Looking over the top of the child's head (and trying to ignore his delighted cries of "Fuck!"), Wikus smiled at the wounded creature he'd become so weirdly attached to. Christopher returned the glance shyly—had it been anyone else the human would have almost called it 'flirtatiously'.

Sudden, stabbing pain ripped through his gut, making him double over and gag. He dully heard alarmed clicks, felt the numbed pressure as Christopher gripped his shoulder. Everything else was pain. There was a faint tearing sensation, a bizarre feeling of open air inside him, and then darkness as his eyes rolled and he blacked out.


	13. Riot in D9 Alley

Hey guys, sorry this chapter took so long. I've been having musing troubles, meaning that my brain has transformed into a slug and oozed out my ear. But I think I'm over it now. Hopefully. Keep your reviews a-comin'! They are all that keeps me going!

He clawed his way out of the dark, dragging himself up walls of volcanic stone, broken shards of glass jutting out for him to use as hand- and foot- holds. He tried to draw breath to scream, sucked in fire instead of air. He gagged, spasms riding up his innards with borborygmus sounds. His eyes rolled and slowly cleared as the pain ebbed.

Gradually he became aware of his surroundings: he was lying on the mattress, surrounded by the blue and green glow of computer screens. Christopher crouched nearby, crushing several aspirin and dissolving them in a jar of water. He looked up anxiously when Wikus groaned. Upon seeing that the human had woken, the alien raised the jar to Wikus' lips. The hybrid swallowed as much as he could, some liquid sloshing down his chin and onto his bare chest. Glancing down, he realized that he was completely nude, stretched out under a thin sheet.

"Wha'appened? Ow long've I been out?" he rasped.

"You have been fading in and out of consciousness all day," Christopher clicked softly. "I believe your internal organs are transforming, but I cannot tell for certain which ones. My guess would be your digestive system."

"Why d'you think that?" Suddenly Wikus' bowels and stomach rebelled simultaneously. He vomited stomach acid and bile onto himself. "Oh." He looked down at the dark stain spreading under the sheet between his legs. "Oh, fuck, man, I'm sorry. Fuck, that's embarrassing."

"It's alright. It's your system purging itself. I think that is the last of it." The prawn quickly and gently wiped his semi-human chest off and removed the sheet, replacing it with a ragged blanket. "I am only glad that your pain seems to have lessened. I- had to send Oliver to a neighbor's house so he would not be frightened. He was very worried about you." Christopher reached out a timid hand and tenderly ran his fingertips down Wikus' right arm. "We both were."

It took every ounce of self-control Wikus had left not to jump the prawn right then and there.

After a few intense seconds, Christopher rattled his maxillae and stood up, his antennae bobbing and twitching.

"If—if you are feeling somewhat better, I will go and retrieve him now. I prefer not to leave him in the care of my neighbor for too long."

"Yeah, of course." Wikus absently rubbed his arm. "Yeah. You go get your boy, I'll be fine."

The alien nodded and made his way to the door, walking gingerly due to his still-painful injuries.

As the twisting in his gut receded, Wikus lay back and stared into space, contemplating the events of the past few days. His thoughts filled with the look Christopher had given him that morning… that expression of endless thanks underlined with something unidentifiable, something familiar. His eyes drifted shut as he held that image in his mind, and soon he slept once more.

~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~

He was woken with a start when the door slammed open and Christopher charged in, raging in a panicked growl-click. He was ranting so fast that Wikus couldn't understand him.

"Christopher—what happened? Slow down! Hey—where's Oliver?" The kid was no where to be seen.

"He took him! Edward stole my child!"

"What?!" The human leapt to his feet, ignoring the stab of pain in his stomach. "How?!"

"He broke into Marie's house, knocked her out." The prawn was hyperventilating now, the slits in his neck pulsing like beating hearts. "I have to save him. I—I have to do something, I have to…"

"Breath, Christopher. Keep breathing." Wikus pulled on his pants and reached for his shirt. "Did—did the fucker say what he wanted?"

Christopher inhaled and exhaled twice, eyes closing in worry and fear. "I must go to his home and explain in detail the manner in which we had planned to leave. Then he wants me to finish my work and take him with us in the ship. Once we are airborne, he says, he will release my son. However, I am well aware that he intends to use the information I give him to turn me in to the MNU once the ship is ready to leave. And he does not seem to realize that it will take a long time to get the ship fixed and get home. He expects it done in a week." He clenched his hands into fists, speaking bitterly. "He is a fool, but he is very dangerous and he has my son, so I must attempt to meet his demands."

Wikus thought for a moment before asking, "Do you think he's got any weapons?"

"Weapons? Nothing beyond the shovel that he attacked Marie with. No guns, but he would not need a gun to…to…" The prawn trailed off miserably.

"So," the human began to pace fervently. "So if we showed up with a shitload of guns and threatened to blast the crap out of him, we could get your boy back and make Eddie get the picture, ay?"

"But I am to arrive unarmed. He will know immediately if I am carrying a weapon."

"That's why _I'll_ carry it. I'll sneak around back or the side. No one'll expect a human to have a prawn weapon or be able to fire it."

Christopher regarded him intensely, and Wikus knew that there was a turmoil of feverish thought going on behind the prawn's eyes.

"It…might work. But… we have no weapons. I do not approve of keeping guns; He will know this."

Wikus half-grinned in nervous inspiration. "It's okay. I think I know where we can get some weapons."


	14. This Ain't A Scene, It's A Prawn Race

My friend, the excellent ZombieSmasher, suggested this conversation between Chris and Oliver in chapter 10:"What are we going to do today while Mister Wikus is gone?" "Same thing we do every day: try to TAKE OVER THE WORLD MUAHAHA!"

I love my friends.

And I love my readers. Seriously, guys, I was so depressed the other day until I checked my reviews page and saw all the nice, helpful comments you left me. So thank you for that, it totally cheered me back up and got me motivated to type some more. Your suggestions are like extra helpings of dessert. I enjoy dessert. I am rambling, so I will stop now. Toodle-oo.

"How long have we got?" Wikus asked before they set out.

"He wants me there before sunset." They began walking. "So we have about two hours."

"Do you think he'll have anybody else with him?"

"No. He does not trust others. But we should be cautious nonetheless. I will not risk my son's life over a foolish mistake." The prawn's eyes tightened and his antennae swiveled back angrily. "I will never forgive myself if something happens to him," he clicked quietly.

"Hey." Wikus gripped Christopher's arm with his heavily bandaged left hand. "We're gonna get him back. It'll be okay," he said reassuringly.

The tall creature nodded grimly and began walking faster. Wikus had to jog to keep up.

They reached Obesandjo's stronghold in only a few minutes. Men with guns of varying shapes and sizes mingled with prostitutes outside. All shot appraising glances at the two newcomers, and one of the women sauntered over to address Wikus.

"I am Mosimoli. You want company, White Man, I am very good." She smiled, teeth bright against dark skin, and slid one shoulder out of the loose wrap she wore. For whatever reason, Wikus felt nothing, no attraction, only pity and mild disgust.

Simultaneously, a group of machete-wielding men had wandered up and surrounded Christopher, leering and circling.

"No—no thank you," Wikus said to Mosimoli. "I need to buy some weapons. A prawn gun. From Obesandjo."

Mosimoli's brow furrowed, but she turned and called out to one of the men standing in front of the doorway. He nodded and ducked inside.

Wikus turned to look over his shoulder at Christopher. One of the men had drawn his machete and was slowly running it down the alien's torso. Christopher gazed stoically ahead, trying to take no notice of them, but Wikus detected a nearly-suppressed tremor as it ran along the prawn's form.

_Shit. We gotta get this done fast and get out of here._

The guard returned and beckoned them inside. They entered, Christopher still being tailed by his dubious fan club. Obesandjo reclined in his wheelchair at the back of the crowded room. When he caught sight of Wikus he laughed, and not in a particularly nice way. He grinned at the semi-transformed human, who prayed that his mutation-covering bandages didn't slip.

"You! I know you, the man from the magazine las' week. You like to fuck demons, eh?" He gestured at Christopher. "Is this your pet demon that you fuck, White Man?"

Christopher looked down as if examining the dirty floor very, very carefully. Wikus couldn't tell if he was embarrassed, scared, or about to snap and kill everyone, so he spoke quickly, avoiding the question.

"Hello. I need a prawn gun."

"What do you need it for?"

"My friend and I have a… a problem." Wikus faltered, not sure if it was a good idea to call a prawn his friend in front of these people. He continued anyway. "There's a prawn we need to take care of. We need a gun."

Obesandjo thought for a moment. "What will you pay for it?"

"We have money—" Christopher began, but one of the knife-holders thrust the edge of his blade up against the threatened prawn's throat.

"Did he talk to you, prawn? Did he ask you for payment? No! He asked your White Man! You be silent!"

Wikus tried to remain level-headed. "We have—_I _have money-"

Obesandjo shook his head disdainfully. "I don't want your money, demon fucker. But I will make you a deal. You give me your demon," he jerked his chin toward the surrounded Christopher, "and I will give you a demon gun."

_Not a chance in hell, not in a million years, you fucking __mafia fuck, don't you fucking go anywhere __**near**__ him---_

"Um, no, actually, I need him. I need this prawn to use the gun," Wikus lied swiftly, then made another offer as one of the guards took a menacing step forward. "_But_—but there's—you, you want a prawn to eat, right? That's what you want it for?"

"Of course. What else? I am not a demon fucker like you, Bwana." The paralyzed criminal bared his teeth in a feral grin. One of the machete-carriers licked his lips lasciviously at Christopher, causing the others to laugh.

"W-well, we can get you one," Wikus said desperately. "You give us the gun now, and we'll bring you an even bigger prawn tonight for you to… to do whatever with."

Obesandjo seemed to consider this. "How am to know you're not going to just run away with this gun?"

"Where would we go?" Christopher muttered irately, earning a snarl and a knife hilt to the gut from one of the men.

Obesandjo laughed again, in a slightly less threatening manner this time. "Your monster has a point. Where would you go that we could not find you?"

Wikus shrugged, hoping that it was the appropriate response.

_If they go for Christopher… if they try to do anything to him, I'll grab one of those guns and kill all of them, I swear…_

Obesandjo nodded finally. "I will give you a gun." He waved a man over and barked an order at him. The man jogged away, leaving them in tense silence for a few seconds until he returned bearing an alien rifle of some sort. Obesandjo made a cursory inspection of it before handing it over. Wikus gripped the strange, spiky weapon with one hand and turned to Christopher.

"Okay."

The prawn detached himself from the circle of "admirers" he'd accumulated and hurried towards the exit. Wikus followed him, glancing back when Obesandjo called:

"Mizungo. Know this." Their eyes met. "If you do not bring me this prawn you promise, I will hunt you down and kill you, and I will eat your demon's heart."

Wikus could only nod once. He strode outside and caught up with Christopher, who was putting as much distance as he could between himself and the miniature fortress.

"Quickly. Let us go and save my son."

~~~~*~~~~

So, I need a vote from you guys: Mercy for Edward, which would mean I will take longer to update, or no mercy, which would be quicker as I have already written the chapter that way. I thought I ought to get you guys' opinions. Please let me know!


	15. Touch My Prawn Again & I'ma Fook You Up

Okay, so I got about three or four votes saying that maybe Chris should convince Wikus to not turn Eddie over, and about fifteen that were like "OMG KILL HIM KILL HIM KILL HIM NOW". So I have done my best to make everyone happy. Thanks for your votes!! I'm pretty jazzed about this chapter, actually; I've been waiting to use this title for ages. I even drew an accompanying illustration. It's pretty awesome. Also, if someone were so inclined to make a music video of Chris and Wikus to that particular song, I would love them for all eternity. On with the show!

PS: Reviews are a girl's best friend, not diamonds. Not to say that I don't like diamonds; if somebody felt like giving me diamonds, I certainly wouldn't complain! Anywho:

Edward Moore's shack rested next to the dump, and was in such a state of disarray that it was nearly indistinguishable from the garbage behind it. Empty cat food cans littered the yard next to tires and well-chewed bones. Fortunately it was fairly distanced from the other huts, so the two rescuers wouldn't likely be noticed.

Christopher approached the house slowly, hands at his sides, and called, "Edward! I am here!"

There was a beat of silence, and then the door swung open and Edward's grating death-rattle voice ordered him inside. The smaller Poleepkwa obeyed, every move he made carefully controlled as he entered. Immediately his eyes scanned the grubby dwelling for his child.

"Father!"

His head whipped around toward the source of the voice: Oliver had been crammed into a birdcage in one filthy corner of the room. Other than a bruise on his cheek, he seemed frightened but unharmed.

Edward stepped forward, menacingly brandishing the sharpened edge of the shovel he held in Christopher's face.

"There. Your brat is alive. Not hurt. I keep my deal."

Christopher held a hand out towards his son, speaking calmingly. "Do not be afraid, Little One. It will be alright."

"Not if you don't do what I say," snapped Edward. "Now tell me the plan!"

Christopher nodded and turned his attention back to the larger Poleepkwa. "Of course, Edward. The first part of the plan involves me distracting you for a few seconds, just long enough, say, for someone to climb in through your window."

"What?" Edward shifted his stance, confused.

"The second part," Christopher continued, "involves that same someone- I think you know Wikus?- holding a gun to your head."

_Click_. Edward froze, presumably because the barrel of the gun was pressed to the back of his neck. Wikus grinned like a shark.

Christopher nodded in satisfaction as the human forced Edward to drop the shovel and get on his knees. Turning, the kidnapper caught sight of his captor.

"_You_? But—"

"Yeah, me, you fucking kid-snatching son of a bitch."

"Y-you… you…" Edward attempted to sort out the situation as Christopher broke open the cage, releasing Oliver. The kneeling Poleepkwa spoke again. "You can't _use_ that gun." His eyes darted back and forth.

Without blinking, Wikus pointed the gun at the plastic chair against one wall and fired. The chair became a char.

Wikus had figured that that display would render the thuggish alien passive and cooperative, but he was surprised. Edward leapt up with a roar, throwing the human down, and, grabbing the spade off the floor, hurled himself at Christopher. "_I'll take you with me, Johnson!_"

Instinctively, the smaller Poleepkwa pushed his son out of the way and turned to face his attacker. He was met by a solid blow to his jaw, the shovel sending him stumbling to his knees.

Before Christopher could recover, Edward was on him, flailing wildly with fists and weapon, raining blows on the already injured Poleepkwa. Christopher growled and lashed out, but Edward barely seemed to notice, so consumed was he by his rage.

Suddenly Edward's weight was gone. Christopher sat up to see Wikus drag the other alien to a corner of the shack, throw him down, and strike him so hard with the butt of the gun that Edward was tossed to the ground. Wikus didn't stop there, though; he pelted the prawn with furious blows, screaming at him with every hit: "_Don't—you—fuckin'—touch—him!!! You—sonuva—motherfuckin'—whore! Gonna—fuckin'—kill you!_"

"Wikus!" Strong but gentle hands pulled him back, Christopher's calming voice clicking in his ear. "Wikus, it's alright."

Edward had dropped his weapon and flattened out on the floor of the hut, shielding his head with his folded arms. Wikus nodded, settling down some. He turned to examine Christopher, frowning at the blood that seeped from a cut under the prawn's eye.

"Are you okay? Did he hurt Oliver?"

"I'm fine!" Announced Oliver from atop a windowsill.

"We both are," Christopher said soothingly. "It's alright, Wikus. Thank you."

"Yeah." Wikus glared down at the defeated criminal before him. "C'mon, we gotta get him to Obesandjo."

Christopher looked conflicted. "Is that necessary? I would prefer not to-"

"Chris, he _stole_ your _kid_! He beat the shit out of you! He called you—all those things, filth and that! _He stole your kid_!"

Christopher looked down at Oliver as the child climbed out of the window and trotted over. The boy's father leaned down and scooped him up into his strong arms, holding the kid close. Without looking at Edward, Christopher nodded. "Let's go."

"C'mon. Up," Wikus snarled at his prisoner, who obeyed grudgingly. As they headed for the door, Edward glowered at Christopher and snapped out a garbled prawn word that Wikus had never heard.

Christopher froze. He set Oliver down, walked up to the big prawn, and punched him soundly in the face. Edward stumbled back in shock, bumping into the gun Wikus held.

"Y-you-" He choked.

Without a trace of anger, Christopher picked Oliver back up and said, "You will not use such words in front of my son." He looked at Wikus, who was equally aghast. "We're going?"

"Yeah- uh- yeah." He urged Edward along ahead of him, the stunned alien offering no more resistance. The two followed Christopher as he led the way.

~*~

The drop-off went surprisingly without a hitch. Wikus was darkly amused by the look of terror in Edward's face when he realized where they were taking him. The machete-carrying men were pleased with their prize, and slapped Wikus wholeheartedly on the back, making him cough. As Edward was led away, for a split second, Wikus saw clearly in his mind's eye the face of Koobus, smirking as he blew a hole in Peter's head, as he beat a prawn with his gun in the street. A horrible fear gripped him, a poisonous self-loathing. _Am I… like him? Beating up prawns, letting them get killed_… He swallowed thickly, gripping the gun.

A warm hand brushed his shoulder. He turned to see Christopher, cradling the dozing Oliver, smiling at him despite the blood that ran down his cheek and the way the older prawn looked dead on his feet.

"Thank you, Wikus. Thank you."

Wikus felt the darkness in his chest drain away like venom leaving a wound. He smiled back and laid his left hand across Christopher's.

"Let's go home."


	16. Broken Prawnises for Broken Hearts

Uh-Oh. Better get your protective gear on, guys, cause this chapter's gonna get bogged down in a little substance called ANGST. Not to worry, though; there's light in the tunnel ahead. I just have to force myself to keep writing through the depressing bits to get to the _good_ stuff. And for those who worried, no, the gang did not go with them to get Eddie. Wikus had the gun lowered when they dropped him off, so no gangsta suspicions were aroused.

Steel Quill, your icon WINS SO GOOD! I am so sorry for slacking; I shall attempt to bring the details back to power!

Illyric, the song is Crazy Possessive (or Crazy Prawnsessive as I like to call it) by Kaci Battaglia. Mmm… now I want ice cream.

Crazzi Turdi, I'm glad you managed to find this fic again. Rambling reviews are ridiculously awesome.

Mistah Eleganza, you want a proper mattress workout? You shall receive one! Soonish. Sooner if I get my motivation on.

Hi, Zombie Smasher! I am the rabies!!!! Your soundtrack help is greatly appreciated!!!

Bonus quiz for you funsters out there! Or if you're just bored, and feel like trying to get inside my head (you creepy people). Edward was named after whom: Edward Scissorhands, Edward Blake (The Comedian), or that sparkly guy from those books that everyone is reading.

The next two days were a blur.

Both Christopher and Wikus needed time to recover. Oliver was not allowed out of his father's sight, which was maddening to the hyperactive little prawn. Wikus, determined to make himself useful, took over the job of preparing the food they had left for the three of them, making sure it was safe for consumption and sometimes cooking. It was something to distract himself from the growing tension he felt, the nervous energy he was filled with whenever he and Christopher were close. He was a bundle of raw nerves, worry and fear and doubt and lust all waging war in his beleaguered mind.

On the third day, he made what was, in his mind, the worst mistake he'd ever made in his life that led to the best thing he'd ever done.

Christopher was feeling better, so much so that he could leave the house and look for more food. When he returned bearing a slab of (shockingly) fresh goat meat, the human was thrilled. Suddenly, though, Wikus winced and clutched his left leg. Christopher immediately ran to his side, helping him over to the bed.

"Lay back. Let me see."

Feeling strangely awkward, Wikus leaned back onto his elbows and tried to keep a straight face as Christopher rolled up what remained of his trouser leg. The skin under it was reddened and slightly swollen, even broken through in some places, shiny green-black carapace showing through. The concerned alien clicked quietly, running a palm down the length of the exposed leg. Wikus made a soft noise in the back of his throat, closing his eyes and beating back a wave of renewed desire. Christopher misinterpreted the sound as a negative one and withdrew his hand. The human sighed in a combination of relief and disappointment.

Turning away, the prawn began to gather items to help the transforming creature. "I'm worried that your leg may become infected. I'm going to clean the open areas with hot water and bandage them." He explained, oblivious to his affect on the human. He set a scuffed metal pot of water on the hot plate he'd found some years ago and waited for it to boil. Glancing at his son, he suggested, "Little One, perhaps you had better go down below. This is not likely to be a very pleasant experience for our friend."

Silently, Wikus disagreed. Having Christopher's hands touching him in almost the right places sounded _very_ pleasant. It was only the 'almost' part that was unfortunate.

They sat in silence, waiting for the water. Wikus had to say something; he was going crazy just sitting there watching Christopher watch him out of the corner of his eye while the prawn ground some kind of plant in with the antibacterial gel to form a paste.

"So, uh…" The human cleared his throat. "What was that word? That thing Edward called you when we caught him? It pissed you off pretty bad."

Christopher looked down, his mixing motions slowing. He hesitated before answering.

"You must understand something about our language, our culture. Some words have great meaning, almost a physical presence. Such words are not used lightly." He sighed, mandibles chittering. "It was possibly the most hateful word in our tongue."

Wikus didn't bother pointing out that prawns don't _have_ tongues. "But what did it mean?"

Christopher kept his eyes lowered, concentrating on his work. "It is a term of derision used to describe one who is… different from the rest. In particular, someone who is attracted to members of the same gender as their own."

"And it really, really bothered you, huh?" Wikus half-smirked. "You're doing that thing where you use really long descriptions. You do that when you're upset."

The alien huffed slightly, prodding at the water pot. Wikus chuckled and continued.

"But why would that put you off so much? I mean, you're _not_, right?"

There was a very long pause.

"Oh." Wikus' eyes widened slightly, his mind racing. "But… you've got a kid," he stated dumbly.

"His mother laid the egg and abandoned it. I fertilized it and cared for it. He is my child. Nothing can change this." Christopher's voice was flat and clipped.

"So… so you and that Peter guy, you were…?" Wikus was still attempting to sort everything out. The jealousy he'd felt when Oliver had first spoken of the yellow prawn hit him again like a bolt of lightning. That painted fucker had known the feel of Christopher's body, the taste of his skin. Envy battled with oncoming arousal.

The prawn carefully pulled the pot of bubbling water off the hot plate and soaked a rag in it.

"We were lovers, yes, although I cannot say we were ever _in_ love. We were… lonely, and we made do with each other. He was helpful, but his unintelligence and his need to keep weapons in his home bothered me as much as my habit of using words he couldn't understand annoyed him. It was a relationship of necessity rather than affection." He finally glanced up at the human to judge his reaction.

Wikus had a detached look, distracted by the conflict in his mind (or, more accurately, his pants) Christopher quietly clicked, "Now—I need to examine your leg."

Wikus was so intensely involved in his own thoughts that he didn't hear or notice Christopher moving until he felt the prawn's touch on his thigh. He jumped at the contact, so close to his embarrassingly hard groin, and without thinking, slapped the hand away.

"_Don't_—" he blurted, shoving the taller creature away. He looked up, realizing his mistake, what it must have seemed like to Christopher. He opened his mouth to apologize, but Christopher had already stood and walked to the door. Wikus scrambled to his feet, tripped over the blanket, reached out an arm, calling:

"Wait-- I—didn't mean… Chris, wait--!"

It was too late. The prawn had left, leaping up and climbing across rooftops with his powerful legs. Wikus let his arm drop, feeling the pain of the transformation a thousand times over at the way Christopher had looked back at him. Those eyes full of sorrowful understanding and resignation, of heartbreak.

"Oh, no. Fuck. Fuck. I'm so stupid. Fuck."

He collapsed against the wall, sliding down and curling in on himself. For the first time since he'd run to the alien for help, Wikus felt truly and utterly alone and afraid. Tears filled his mismatched eyes; his chest clenched and he sobbed, dropping his head into his hands as his shoulders hitched with every breath.

A gentle hand on his arm; he looked up hopefully.

"Chris-?"

"Mister Wikus?"

Oliver stood at his elbow, his big eyes widened in innocent concern. "What's wrong?"

Wikus choked, the pain in his chest doubling. "I made a mistake. I—I did something stupid to your daddy and I made him upset. I'm an idiot."

The little prawn tilted his head. "Father will forgive you. It'll be okay."

Oliver's honest optimism only made the human sob once more. With a perplexed chirp, the child hugged the miserable adult, his little arms stretching as far as they could.

Wikus thought of the shack full of eggs, of all the tiny Olivers that would never be, and was wracked by guilt. He was completely unworthy of any child's trust, of anyone's trust. He let himself wallow in hate for the person he'd been, and knew that he did not deserve forgiveness.


	17. Truly and Utterly Wikus

Hey, so, remember when I said this fic was gonna be about 15 chapters long? Yeah, apparently I lied. Anyway, sorry this chapter's so short, but, hey, it's fast! And it's about to get FUNKY up in here!! And by funky I mean hot. Enjoy!!!

Wikus woke from a fitful, sorrow-induced slumber around late afternoon, just as the first colors of dusk began to paint the sky.

At first he thought—hoped—that the events of that morning had been a dream, that he'd roll over to find Christopher asleep next to him or playing with Oliver on the other side of the room. But, no, he was propped against a wall, knees under his chin, hands at his sides. Alone. Then horrible realization sunk in and the full agony of grief hit him again. He whimpered at the memory, wishing he could block out Christopher's last glance back.

_He'll come back_, the human told himself dejectedly. _He's not gonna leave his kid here, for fuck's sake. He'll come back and I'll… I'll_… He trailed off and crawled to his feet, ignoring the dull ache that throbbed down his calf. He looked around the small house for Oliver, finding the boy asleep in the next room. Wikus laid a blanket over the youngster, patting his head gently.

The front door opened slowly.

Wikus bolted back into the main part of the shack. Christopher stepped gracefully inside and shut the door, keeping his eyes down. Wikus stood anxiously, not sure what to say, how to start. Christopher glanced up, that same expression of resolute, understanding hurt in his tan-and-gold eyes. The instant their gazes met, Wikus broke. He took a step forward, bringing up one arm halfway, and choked:

"Chris I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to, I'm sorry—"

The alien only held up a hand to silence him. "No, Wikus. It's my fault. I… I let my emotions get the better of me. I should have anticipated your reaction. Your people do not often accept… deviance, and the thought of a—what is the word—a _fag prawn_ must have been doubly repugnant to you. I—I had hoped that you would not ju—" He looked away again, cutting himself off and gathering his thoughts, biting back the emotions that were clearly fighting to escape. "As I said—I let my emotions get the better of me. I'm sorry."

Wikus had been shaking his head ever since the words "my fault" had left Christopher's mouth.

"Chris—it's not like that, I swear."

The alien only looked at him coolly. "You do not need to lie to me, Wikus."

"Dammit, I'm not lying! Listen—I…" the human stepped toward the prawn again in an almost aggressive motion, making Christopher tense. "I know I've been – weird -- these past few… well, pretty much the whole time. But it's not… it's not for the reasons you think. I mean," he sucked a breath and plunged onward. "At first I was just angry – at myself, at everything, and I was taking it out on you, and you don't deserve that. And I'm so sorry for that. But," he continued strongly, preventing Christopher's second attempt to take the blame, "But the past couple days… weeks… I've been acting like an arse for a different reason. I was…" Wikus swallowed and looked the prawn in the eye. "I was pissed at myself for how I felt. 'Cause I didn't understand… didn't want to understand. But… I get it now. I know what it means."

Christopher shifted uneasily. "I… I'm not sure _I_ understand."

Wikus took another step, bringing them so close that he could feel the breath rushing in and out of the alien's throat. He lifted both hands, hovering them at either side of Christopher's face. The taller being's gaze darted nervously back and forth, awaiting a punch or some other punishment. Instead, Wikus gently clasped the Poleepkwa's head and brought their mouths together.


	18. The Prawn is the Beginning is the Prawn

Oh you people. You're love keeps me so fresh and young. ^,^ Sorry it took me so long to post this chapter, but it is especially difficult to write porn when people keep walking by and going "OH HAI THERE, WHATCHA DOIN???" But I digress. Well, here we are at the final chapter in our story. However, before you murder/maim me in the face, let me tell you this: I am already working on another fic. And, yes, of course it shall be Christopher and Wikus and their crazy shenanigans. I cannot get enough of them. Oh by the way, chapter seventeen had exactly 666 words in it. Spooky, yes? Count them if you do not believe me. I was probably influenced by the gods of All Hallows Eve. Or I just drank too many pudding cups. (yes, DRANK. You can totally drink those things. Spoons are not necessary) Or I am just too lazy to bother writing more. (It is probably that last one) I just want to thank you ALL for your encouraging reviews and your lack of hating me! Thanks for keeping me on my toes vis-à-vis detail and updates and such! And, yes, I realize that the general consensus is that prawns are hermaphrodites, but I took a little of the substance called creative liberty and it went to my head. I look forward to writing more for your perusal! I just want to hug all of you!!! Really, every single one of you. (And I offer special comforting hugs to Murder Junkie. Self-realization is hard!) I would thank each and every person specifically but this opening is long enough as it is and that would take about three pages, so I shall stop rambling and add one more time: I love you ALL! Please keep reading and reviewing!

And now… (drumroll, please, ZombieSmasher!) Ladies and gents, I present you with your PRAWN PR0N!!!!! Watch out, the beginning is sappy and romantic!!!

Oh and for those of you who wondered, Edward was named for B) Edward Blake, Alan Moore's Comedian character. (Hence my character's last name)

Christopher froze in utter amazement as Wikus' lips parted and his warm human tongue brushed the tendrils of the Poleepkwa's mouth. Unsure if this was really happening, and temporarily incapable of brain function, he responded by tentatively uncurling one labrum and stroking the human's bottom lip. Wikus reacted enthusiastically, pressing forward and tilting his head to get a better angle as he drew the tendril into his mouth, grazing it with his teeth. Christopher's eyes rolled back at the sensation and his maxillae reached out to brush a soft, stubbled cheek. He wondered vaguely if Wikus understood the significance of this gesture; in Poleepkwa culture when two beings joined mouths it was a sign of deep devotion and affection, almost but not quite as powerful as stroking a partner's antenna-- Just then Wikus' hands slid up and back, finding the longer antennae and running his fingers down them. Christopher let out a shocked, rattling moan-sound and grabbed at the human's shoulders, his knees weakening with the intense pleasure. Before those teasing, mismatched hands could torture him further, the stunned prawn pulled away, staring at Wikus with wide eyes as his shoulders heaved.

"Was – I'm—did you—was that –" he was unable to form a coherent question, but Wikus still managed to answer.

"You're not good at taking a hint, you know that?" The human chuckled, leaned in again despite Christopher's grip on his upper arms. "Chris… _I_. _Love_. _You_. I _want_ you. What else can I say to convince you?"

Christopher's brain, which had seemed to cease functioning the moment their mouths had met, suddenly kicked into overdrive.

_This must be a dream. I must've hit my head; maybe Wikus got angry and knocked me out and I'm lying on the floor hallucinating or maybe one of the soldiers or Nigerians or Edward killed me and this is some sort of amazing afterlife or maybe—_

_Maybe…_

…_maybe it's…_

Real.

"Wikus?" He managed aloud.

"Mm-hmm…" The hybrid had begun nuzzling the soft skin of the Poleepkwa's throat. Christopher thrummed as Wikus' hands once again found his antennae and began to stroke and tweak them.

"Is – is – _uhhhhn_—_oh _– is this – _ah_—real?" he gasped through a fog of bliss.

Wikus laughed against the prawn's neck, earning a shudder. "Does it feel real?"

"Yes – no – I'm not s-sure," Christopher's hands moved to the human's sides and grabbed fistfuls of shirt. "It f-feels like… a very, very realistic dream. An impossible -- _oh fuck_-- perfect one."

Another chortle. "Well," Wikus mouthed one of the hard plates where the creature's neck and shoulders met, "I, for one, am absolutely fucking sure that this isn't a dream. Trust me, I have experience with this. Plus, you aren't speaking English."

"Wh-what?" Christopher was confused. "What does that have to do wi-" before he could further question the odd statement he was pushed back and down until he landed on the mattress. Wikus crawled predatorily over his prize.

"Now, let's see if I can't _prove_ just how much this _isn't_ a dream, eh?"

Christopher moaned in anticipation.

Grinning ear to ear, the hybrid brought his hands to the brim of the alien's trousers and tugged them down in one swift movement, tossing them on the floor behind them. After a moment of frustrated tape-peeling, the vest joined the pants. Christopher's hands came up timidly and began to reverently unwrap the human, undoing each button with trembling fingers. Wikus dipped his head to let the prawn slide his shirt off, then took advantage of his position to trail a line of soft nips and kisses down Christopher's exposed abdomen. The secondary arms reached out to run through his hair.

Christopher grunted in annoyance at being unable to access Wikus' trousers. He growled and pushed the human up into sitting position between the Poleepkwa's legs. Leaning in, Christopher began to work at the button and zipper with his secondary limbs, using his full-sized arms to gently explore the transforming body before him.

Wikus groaned as the prawn tilted his head and ran curious mouthparts over one of his nipples. He gasped when his pants were suddenly ripped away. (He'd given up on underwear a while ago) Christopher lowered his head slowly, still tasting and sucking at various sensitive spots on the human as he made his way south.

"Oh fuck. Oh fuck," Wikus wrapped his arms around the prawn's shoulders, shaking helplessly as two pairs of impossibly agile hands stroked, teased, touched and that—"oh, yes, oh, fuck, _Chris_!"—mouth, that fucking _mouth_ broke him into a thousand pieces, pausing to caress a jutting hipbone before it reached – "_Oh fuck oh fuck ohhhhh fuuuuck, Christopher!_"

Christopher twined his slick, soft tendrils around Wikus' erection and nuzzled gently, his forehead butting against the human's belly. He ran one labrum down the vein on Wikus' hard length, curling it around the hybrid's testicles. Wikus was nearly sobbing with the excruciating ecstasy. He tried to warn Christopher that he wouldn't last much longer, but he couldn't form words that made any sense. He fumbled with his prawn hand, tried to pull Christopher's head away, but ended up grasping one of the alien's antennae and firmly rubbing down its smooth surface as he attempted to get a grip. This, of course, made Christopher scream with pleasure, a sound that vibrated down Wikus' cock and shot up his spine as the prawn suckled even harder.

"_Ch-Christopher – ohh – __**ahhh**__!!_" Wikus managed to howl as he came into the Poleepkwa's mouth. For a long, suspended moment, he hung in the air, every muscle taut, before he collapsed bonelessly to the ground, half on the mattress and half on the floor and not caring at all.

Christopher gathered up his limp form tenderly and dragged him fully onto the bed, briefly recalling when the human had passed out and the Poleepkwa'd had to drag him to the trapdoor. He laid Wikus out on the mattress and settled next to him, giving him time to recover.

Wikus panted for a few minutes before glancing over at his friend. "That… was… fucking… amazing."

"I'm glad." The prawn's clicks were tinged with amusement and warmth.

Wikus rolled over and lay half on top of the alien, snuggling against him and planting lazy kisses down his neck.

"I-" kiss "love you-" kiss "Christopher."

"I love you too, Wikus," the Poleepkwa replied shyly. "I—I didn't want to tell you… I thought you would…" He looked away. "I thought you would hate me."

Wikus banished the idea from prawn's mind by squirming even closer and clasping Christopher's miniature arms with his own single one. Suddenly he looked down in surprise.

"Hang on," he looked back up at Christopher, brow furrowed. "You're still--"

Christopher blinked and rattled his maxillae. "Yes."

"You didn't-? Why didn't you say something?" Wikus sat back and stared at the prawn's still-prominent organ.

"I-I was giving you time to recuperate. I'm not sure how far along your transformation is in that department, but our stamina is generally more _uhh_…" Christopher's eyelids fluttered as his lecture was cut off by a warm human hand wrapped around his erection.

Wikus laughed quietly and slid his right hand down slowly, drawing a long, clattered moan out of the alien. He used his other hand to rub gently at the shorter antennae, making Christopher tremble with over-sensitized pleasure. The human glanced down all of a sudden and realized that he'd become stiff again just from watching the prawn's reactions.

"Holy – that was fuckin' fast!"

"What?" Christopher looked around dazedly, displeased that the stroking had stopped.

"I'm fucking hard again!"

"Good."

"Wha-" Wikus looked up to see the Poleepkwa lay back and spread his legs- those legs that could kick a man so hard his spine broke- offering himself trustingly to the human. Wikus felt his arousal throb approvingly at the sight. He leaned in eagerly and traced an exploratory finger along the inside of one leg, making Christopher shiver.

"Please- Wikus…"

Wikus held out his left hand, still running the right teasingly across the prawn's torso and legs. Christopher sucked at the offered fingers with his labrum, coating them in a dark, slippery chemical. The human stifled a groan at the touch of that mouth, the tactile memory of it on his most sensitive parts still fresh in his mind. Tense with nearly-giddy anticipation, he lowered his hand and located Christopher's cloaca, sliding one thick finger halfway in before pausing briefly and looking into Christopher's eyes hesitantly.

"Is this- I mean, am I, y'know, doing it right?"

Christopher nodded feverishly, his vision going hazy, and added, "Y-you'll need to bite me—on- on the neck… draw blood…"

"Why?"

"Establish—dominance— why did you --have to pick-- right now to ask --questions?!" The Poleepkwa began to thrust desperately against the single digit, grinding down on it in earnest. Wikus gave up on talking and worked a second finger in, watching the emotions flit across Christopher's face as the prawn clicked and gasped the human's name over and over until it became almost a chant, a prayer.

"Wikus, Wikus, _ohh more_, ahh, please, _Wikus_, uhhhnn – "

Wikus couldn't take it anymore; he pulled his hand away, causing the Poleepkwa to whimper, and positioned himself at Christopher's entrance. His eyes rolled back in his skull as he pushed in, sheathing himself so deep that their hips slammed against one another. Christopher wailed, vocalizing their mutual ecstasy. Instinctively, his legs locked behind Wikus and pulled him impossibly closer. The human slid out halfway before ramming back in, shouting every expletive that came to mind along with tender murmurs and, repeatedly, Christopher's name.

The Poleepkwa grabbed Wikus' shoulders and sat half up from the bed, rocking to meet each thrust. Wikus rolled his hips and keened in utter bliss. On a whim, he craned his neck and brought his mouth to Christopher's antennae. With a lust-fueled smirk, he dragged his tongue down one.

Christopher's eyes shot wide open and he squirmed helplessly against the tide of exquisitely agonizing pleasure. His feet scrabbled against the floor and his hands dug into Wikus' back. The human returned the favor by delivering a sharp bite to the prawn's muscular throat, licking at the blood that welled up before he returned to the antennae. The bite would have been painful, as would the scratches along the human's back, had they not both been equally lost in the overwhelming sensations of their act. One more swipe of hot tongue on his nerve-filled antenna and Christopher screamed as he came. Wikus quickly grabbed the prawn's member and pumped it with his human hand, stroking Christopher through orgasm. Muscles tightened and seized and Wikus cried out, filling the Poleepkwa with his cum.

Christopher fell back onto the mattress, his throat slits undulating as he fought to catch his breath. Wikus wiped the prawn's green-black seed onto his torn shirt and pulled out, sending a little tremor through his mate. With an exhausted sigh, he lay down and tugged a sheet over their naked bodies. He leaned up and kissed Christopher again, tongue and tendril and lips and labrum. He pulled away finally and looked into the Poleepkwa's amber eyes.

"Chris, I… wh-when you go home, to get help—how long do you think you'll be gone?"

Christopher looked away, mandibles clicking quietly. "I… I would guess… three… years." He spoke hesitantly.

Wikus didn't seem angry, surprisingly, just thoughtful. He bit his lip and waited for Christopher to meet his eye again before saying, "When you go, then, I wanna come with you."

The Poleepkwa blinked, and then his eyes lifted in a smile.

"Good. I'd hate to have to drag you against your will," he responded half-jokingly.

Wikus grinned and settled down, head on Christopher's shoulder. Before long they were both sound asleep. A little while later, Oliver wandered in, still half-asleep, and snuggled on top of the sheet between them to dream of what it would be like to explore his home planet with his new daddy. All three slept without fear for the first time in twenty years, and in the morning Wikus showed Oliver how to make an origami crane out of spare foil ("Fuck!" squealed the little prawn) and Christopher planned their raid on the lab at MNU despite several distractions (Wikus sneaking up behind him and rubbing his antennae being one of said distractions, which led to several hours of distraction) and it was a surprisingly peaceful day in District 9…


End file.
